The New Gambit
by Pridento
Summary: Drifter finally succeeds in fleeing the Darkness. In Remnant and away from the threats of home, he can finally test the limits of his abilities by working in the shadows. No longer is there a limit to the power he can accrue. Through Gambit, Remnant's chance at Salvation will soon come. Grimm, on the horizon!
1. Chapter 1

Time ticked by in the otherwise silent office. Behind the desk sat Ozpin, the headmaster of Beacon academy—a grey haired man, peering over his round spectacles, seemingly youthful yet ancient. Across from him, leaning back in the chair, was a man best described as "rough." A scarred face under a black band. Dark green shirt, dark blue robes, and spiked, furred pauldrons. A pistol grip stuck out from his waistband.

The Drifter.

"So as I understand" Ozpin said, breaking the silence, "You broke into my office—"

"Hey, it was unlocked!"

"_Intruded_ upon my office so you could make a sales pitch—"

"Business offer."

"In which you wish to make my students fight Grimm and other monstrosities for sport. Is that correct Mister…?"

"Drifter. Call me Drifter."

Ozpin took a sip from his mug.

Drifter chuckled. "Don't say it like this isn't any more dangerous than what you usually have them do. This'll teach your kids. Teach them how to survive."

"Is that so?" Ozpin inquired, raising an eyebrow. "While we pride ourselves on having a flexible curriculum, I don't see why we require your addition. Especially from a stranger such as yourself. Unless you have recommendations from other academies, perhaps?"

Drifter laughed. "I ran it a long time for another group. They seemed to think I did alright, though getting an endorsement from them would be a little tough. I'll let you in on a little secret though—this game's got more to it than you'd think."

Drifter leaned forward, his brows furrowed.

"You're like me, know that? I can see it in your eyes. You're not Risen, perhaps, but you've seen more than a few lifetimes haven't you?"

Ozpin's eyes widened at the declaration but he carefully schooled his features. Who was this man? He considered reaching for his cane. After all, outside his circle, only _she _and her agents would know his identity.

"Other people would kill for what we've got," Drifter continued. "But we know the truth. It's a curse, isn't it? Makes you wonder if you're really even human anymore."

"A curse indeed," Ozpin replied. "There are few on Remnant who would know such things. Tell me, who are you?" he asked forcefully.

Ozpin enjoyed keeping his cards close to his chest, and he couldn't help but feel like the entire deck had just been overturned.

Drifter shrugged. "You could say I'm from out of town. Far out of town. Not much to say past that, I'm just a wanderer. A drifter, if you will."

Ozpin raised an eyebrow at that. "A little trust could go a long way. Do you work for _her_? Or, are you a _survivor _like myself, but only recently coming out of hiding?"

The other man waved a hand dismissively. "I'm a free agent, and sure I like to consider myself a survivor. Though I can't help but feel like you're using it in a different sense."

"How much do you know about _them_, then?"

"I know a lot of things. Nothing about whatever it is you're trying to get at though. I'm here for business only, nothing else."

Ozpin relaxed slightly. "I see. Forgive my questioning. When duplicity is all too common, one must be cautious."

"I know that all too well," Drifter said with a laugh. "I can tell you've got secrets. Don't worry, I won't pry, I've got plenty of my own. I'll let you in on one of them though—this game's got more to it than you'd think."

"And what would that be?"

"A way to fight the Darkness. A way to reclaim your world. Gambit's a chance at salvation, brother. And it can be yours too."

* * *

Drifter did it. With enough reassuring, and a little of his roguish charm, the headmaster was convinced to tentatively allow his game a trial run at Beacon. On the surface it was an opportunity for the students to improve their training and teamwork in a novel environment.

He could tell the headmaster had only truly approved the game because of its true nature. Gambit was not merely a game, nor a simple training exercise. Gambit made participants flirt with the line between Light and Dark. It let them taste power. It allowed for the Darkness itself to be refined into a weapon.

It was also crucial in helping him control his armies of Taken, though he left that part unsaid. The Taken, a massive and diverse collection of those corrupted by Darkness, made for a powerful asset if one could manage to control them.

Now, Drifter walked through the Emerald Forest. The usual Gambit setup would be a little too strong for the students, he decided. After all, they couldn't exactly revive themselves upon death. He'd have to make a new brand of Gambit to get them started. Gambit Lite? Gambit Minor? Questions for later.

Rules would need to be tweaked too. Ozpin would probably not appreciate four students being permanently turned into paste by an invader.

He'd have to settle for the resident Grimm to start. They would be familiar to the students, but still able to provide a challenge. Once they got used to it, he could throw them some harder foes.

Throughout his walk in the forest, Drifter encountered several Grimm, which he found to be quite interesting. They contained Darkness, certainly, and yet it was a different breed of Darkness than he was used to. It felt foreign, less potent, and lacked the suffocating presence of true Darkness.

For him, that was only a good thing. It meant his explosive exit from the solar system, involving a jumpship soldered to four Vex gates with a Prime Servitor wired to the engine, had either carried him far enough through space or simply broken through reality itself until he landed somewhere far away. A place where he couldn't feel the damned presence of the Traveler or Darkness at all.

It was the most freedom he'd felt in centuries.

Another Beowulf sprung from the foliage, growling and charging forwards. A single well-placed shot from his hand cannon put it down, and its body tumbled forwards, disappearing into black smoke.

Drifter felt a twinge of annoyance at that. If the bodies of the Grimm kept vanishing into smoke, how was he supposed to eat them?

* * *

"Thank you for joining us," Ozpin said as Drifter entered.

No problem," the man replied, glancing around at the others in the office. A blonde woman studying him critically, and a large man looking with interest.

"Allow me to introduce two of your colleagues—Professors Glynda Goodwitch and Peter Port."

"Nice to meet you," Drifter said casually, shaking their hands.

"Ozpin tells me you plan to use the Grimm in novel ways. I can't wait to see how," Port said with a smile.

"Although," Glynda cut in, "it seems you had a most interesting way of introducing it."

Drifter shrugged. "I like to make an impression, what can I say?"

"Now," Ozpin spoke up, "while perhaps unorthodox, I find merit in Drifter's proposal."

"I don't suppose you yourself have a name to go along with it?" Glynda asked sharply.

The man in question laughed. "Drifter's as good as a name as you'll get I'm afraid. I've been going by it for a long time."

She hummed in skeptical agreement.

"As I mentioned to the two of you, Drifter came to me with a most interesting offer," Ozpin explained. "I saw fit to give him the status of an instructor while his game is introduced. Assuming all goes well, it can serve as an elective activity for the students, and credit them towards Grimm studies and combat training."

"A sensible approach. No amount of time in a classroom can beat practical experience, as I always say," Port replied a laugh.

"Of course, the value of this game remains to be seen," Glynda remarked sternly. "I, for one, would like to see it in action first."

Ozpin nodded. "Indeed it is a novel concept. Even I don't know the finer details—Drifter, would you mind explaining the basics of Gambit to us?"

"Sure thing boss," Drifter said with a grin. "Gambit is my creation, something I've developed over years of work. I'd call it the pinnacle of competitive fights. Though, what I'll run here won't be true Gambit. Your students are a little too soft for that, I'm afraid."

That comment drew curious glances from the other three in the room but they remained silent.

"It starts off with two teams, and two arenas," he explained, gesturing with his arms for emphasis. "Enemies, in this case Grimm, will appear in each one. The teams will fight to defeat as many as they can, collecting Motes of Dark in the process."

He flicked his hand, causing a Mote to appear. The small, white, pyramid sat there pulsating with glowing light. With another wave, it seemingly vanished.

"They take these to the center of the arena, and bank 'em in one of my machines. Once they get enough banked, it'll pull a big, nasty enemy in for them to fight. Whichever team kills theirs first, wins.

"There's a little twist, though," he continued. "Each team gets three chances to send an invader—a single fighter who infiltrates the enemy's arena. Once there, the invader can wreak havoc and attempt to slow the other team down."

The two professors took his words in silence. Ozpin took a sip from his mug.

"Certainly an interesting idea," Port announced. "But how will you make the Grimm suit the game?"

"Trade secret for now, I'm afraid," Drifter said with a grin. "But," he added, waving his hand to summon another Mote. "These ought to let me summon Grimm, among other things."

"You can summon Grimm?!" Glynda sputtered, while Port wore an astonished expression.

This particular part wasn't news to him, and Ozpin continued to calmly drink his coffee.

"In a manner of speaking," Drifter explained, "though I can't control them. And, it requires applying a little bit of tech designed by yours truly."

"Summoning Grimm is a most dangerous ability," Port said. "Why, an unexpected Grimm in the middle of the city could cause a catastrophic chain reaction!"

"Relax, it takes the right tech, skills, and environment to do it. I'm the only one able to work it," Drifter reassured him. "Of course, even if I could, I've got no intention of dropping Grimm on Vale."

Lies mixed with the truth, of course. Through using his control over the Light and Darkness, Drifter could bring summoned Taken—or Grimm, presumably—under his control, although it took a great deal of effort to do so. It was much easier to sit back and let them rampage.

While he had no interest in doing so, he found the idea of destroying Vale humorous. Back in the Sol System he was considered dangerous and well-connected, but not a major threat. Sure, being able to summon Taken and access the Darkness granted him power beyond the average Light-bearer, but the greatest concern the Vanguard had was that he'd corrupt Guardians' moral sense and tempt them to do naughty things.

Here, though? Toss a handful of Motes to summon a Primeval—one of the most ancient and powerful Taken—and he could probably destroy half the kingdom. He'd seen a few Huntsmen and Huntresses in action. Sure, they were fast, strong, and had the uniqueness of Semblances, but few could compete with the power of a Guardian.

And of course, unlike Guardians, they tended to stay down.

"The ability to summon Grimm could prove beneficial to us," Ozpin stated, interrupting Drifter's musings. "Beyond a safer means of transport to study, it could be possible to further tweak the technology to allow us to control the Grimm. Or, perhaps manufacture a large-scale anti-Grimm device."

Drifter nodded in agreement.

Port stroked his chin thoughtfully. "There is indeed great research potential there. Perhaps we should bring Dr. Oobleck on board? While Grimm may not be his area of expertise, his intellectual nature would be invaluable."

"A wise suggestion, Peter. I will inform him later today. Anything you'd like to add, Glynda?" Ozpin asked.

The woman in question shook her head. "Not at the moment, no. I will enjoy seeing the how that side of this project progresses, however."

"As will I," he replied before turning to Drifter. "As an instructor here you are entitled to housing, food, and all other faculty accommodations. If that's all we have to discuss, Glynda will show you to your room."

The small meeting adjourned, and Drifter followed Goodwitch through the halls towards the faculty wing.

"Tell me, Glynda, you're the combat instructor aren't you?" Drifter asked.

"I am."

"Then would you mind if I swung by a few of your classes? Seeing how the students fight will help me adjust the difficulty of Gambit," he explained.

"I have no objections," she replied. "A new semester begins in a few days, and I believe the new first-years will be ideal for this experiment. I will notify you then."

Drifter said his thanks and they continued on wordlessly before reaching a door where, after Glynda gave a brief overview of the facilities, they parted ways.

The woman was suspicious of him, he could tell. Not that he'd blame her; he always came across as the shady type. Drifter certainly did not get along with the strict, straight-and narrow types, if his history with the Vanguard was any indication.

"At least she doesn't have a big-ass shotgun," he muttered.

Fumbling around one of his pockets, Drifter withdrew his Scroll and used it to unlock the door. A primitive piece of technology by his standards, sure, but he found it enjoyable to immersive himself in culture of Remnant.

The room inside was small and simple. A clean bed, desk, and a few chairs made up the main area while a doorway led to the bathroom. These were luxuries to a man like Drifter, however. Certainly beat sleeping inside the gutted carcass of an enemy to stay sheltered in a blizzard.

Walking towards the desk, he grinned at the computer there. No doubt connected to the schools systems, it would be a valuable source of information. While he had been on Remnant for a while already, taking his time to learn about the inhabitants and cautiously introduce himself to their culture, there were certainly things kept hidden away from the general public that he could find in the Beacon database.

Drifter extended an open palm.

"Come on out, you little thing" he spoke, summoning his Ghost.

It appeared at once. A mash of off-white and rusty metal chunks made up its shell, with red, unblinking eye in the center. Silently, it floated over to the computer. A beam of light shone from it as it entered the system and began processing the data.

His Ghost wasn't like most Ghosts. Most Ghosts were in a white, cubic shell—or a fancier one, if their Guardians found one—and had a blue eye. They were cheerful and faithful companions, creations of the Light, and oftentimes a Guardian's best friend.

Drifter's Ghost wore the cannibalized parts of other Ghosts, and had been fused with the Darkness. It was quiet. It could not speak. The once cheerful personality had long since been broken.

The changes hadn't been entirely his doing, of course. It had been his Ghost's final attempt to save both of them a long time ago. A time when they were hunted, dying, and both driven insane by prolonged and constant isolation and danger.

Drifter recovered, but his Ghost was forever changed.

Most would be distraught if such things happened to their Ghost, but Drifter didn't care all that much. They did what they had to in order to survive. He never had a deep attachment to his Ghost anyways.

It was a useful tool, sure, and something reliable throughout centuries of change. But, it was also a constant reminder of what the Traveler had done: risen him from the dead and stripped him of his humanity so he could serve as a pawn in an unwinnable war.

He took a few minutes to sit, enjoying the quiet. His Ghost finished, and floated back over to him, disappearing until he called on it again.

Thanks to the seemingly magical abilities of the Light, the vast amounts of data Beacon offered could be compressed to an impossible degree by the Ghost and stored easily on his device.

He'd have to wait until later to begin reading through it though.

Drifter was hungry.

* * *

**First FF. Suggestions & constructive criticism very much appreciated! If I missed anything proofreading, please let me know as well :)**


	2. Chapter 2

Drifter took in the sights as he walked down the streets of Vale. The people here were relaxed and at ease, he noted. A stark contrast to the ever-present caution of those back home. He couldn't help but smile slightly at the sight of how the Huntsmen and ordinary citizens mingled as they went about their business.

It had been a long time since he'd seen such a relaxed and content populace. Perhaps it was even the first time.

He was among the first of the Risen—warriors of the Light who came in the time before Guardians. There had been little guidance from the Traveler, other than to rally underneath it.

But many had rejected the call.

In the decades that followed, the so-called Dark Age, Drifter had a front-seat view to witness the worst humanity had to offer. Many of the Risen, with their immortality and Light powers, quickly turned to becoming Warlords instead of heroes. Ordinary humans were not allies to be protected, but merely pawns to control in the battles between Warlords.

Even after centuries, when Risen became Guardians, there existed a gulf between them and ordinary humans. The two simply did not interact, and why would they?

To be a Risen or Guardian was to receive great power, yet almost all of them had forgotten their humanity. Death was merely an inconvenience, while hunger and thirst were foreign concepts. The bodies of Guardians rarely held any signs of injury because they resurrected so often.

The Huntsmen and Huntresses were not as removed from their humanity, perhaps, yet they still lived far different lives than those of the ordinary people of Vale. Drifter could see the mutual respect between the groups, though.

He continued to let his thoughts wander as he turned down an empty street, enjoying the taste of the bun he had purchased from a street vendor earlier.

Back on Earth, Drifter was known for his hunger. It was considered a peculiarity by the Guardians, who let their Ghosts cure their hunger and other ailments. He knew they could never understand what it meant to starve and be willing to eat _anything_ to survive.

Shattering glass and various grunts from up ahead caught his attention. Drifter turned another corner to see an interesting sight.

A young girl in a red dress stood in the middle of several incapacitated men. Most notably, though, was the massive scythe she carried.

"_There's something you don't see every day."_

Across from him stood a man with a cane, wearing a white suit and a curious looking hat. Walking towards them, Drifter caught the tail-end of their conversation.

"—eventful evening. But—" the suited man turned, seeing Drifter in the corner of his eye. The man groaned. "Another one here to cause trouble?"

The girl saw him too. "Stay back!" she shouted, "he's a dangerous criminal!"

Drifter raised his hands placating. "Don't worry about me," he said with a smirk. "I'm just here for the show."

The suited man rolled his eyes and mumbled something before turning back to the girl. Raising his cane, he fired an explosive at her before running away.

Drifter watched with interest as she recovered from the explosion, looking around frantically before seeing the man climbing a nearby ladder and gave chase.

"Hah! Crazy kids."

Moving along the street, he watched the rooftop battle. The girl and man exchanged a few more blows before he retreated again. A Bullhead swept in and hovered by the edge of the roof, and the man jumped on it.

He turned and threw a crystal back towards the girl and Drifter winced as a massive explosion rocked the rooftop. That'd definitely leave a mark.

The smoke cleared, revealing the girl, unharmed, protected by another figure. None other than Glynda Goodwitch, much to his surprise.

"_I guess that answers the question of who's the bad guy."_

Glynda used her telekinetic powers to launch several projectiles at the Bullhead before it could flee, piercing its hull in several places. It seemed as if she'd bring it down, until another woman appeared in the doors of the ship.

She was wearing a dress, curiously enough, but the shadows of the ship concealed her face. The woman and Glynda exchanged projectiles for a few seconds, as the former sent out powerful blasts of fire.

Soon, however, the ship began to pull away while the girl in red ineffectively fired off several shots from her scythe.

Drifter toyed with the idea of getting involved, but decided against it. Having his Ghost summon a rocket launcher would be a simple solution, but the cluster-bomb ammunition detonating above the city would likely cause a few other problems for him down the line.

It was the right call, he decided, as he watched the two converse briefly before she was pulled away by a stern-looking Glynda.

"_Must be a student," _he reasoned. _"And it looks like she's in trouble."_

Thoroughly satisfied with how the evening had gone, Drifter began to walk back towards the docks so he could return to Beacon.

Seeing his first real battle between Huntsmen had been a treat. While they lacked the same resilience as Guardians, they certainly made up for it with their penchant for high explosives and crazy weapons.

"_Didn't catch what the Semblances of the other two were, but Glynda's telekinesis has potential. Can't imagine the damage she could do with that in the right situation."_

* * *

The next day came, and the preparation for the Gambit arenas was now underway. Drifter had spent the early morning with Port, securing a few storage containers for Grimm.

According to the professor, however, Grimm didn't last long in captivity, so he'd have to wait until closer to the first game before capturing them.

With that on hold, Drifter focused on preparing the arenas. Ozpin had offered limited aid, but Drifter declined it, stating he already had everything he needed. And so, he stood alone on the parcels of land given to him, by the edge of the Emerald Forest.

Not necessarily a lie. Thanks to the power of Glimmer, of which he had plenty, building the arenas was an easy task.

Glimmer was the de facto currency of the entire Solar System back home. Being a form of programmable matter, able to take a plethora of forms, it was valuable for almost any application.

Luckily for Drifter, his Ghost had accrued a great deal of Glimmer-related abilities over the centuries. So now it hovered around the area, converting Glimmer into preliminary structures for the arena.

"_I'm thinking, three distinct areas for this. Already got forest, so maybe make that one area and clear the rest. One third forest, one third rocky cliffs, and the last section could be something a little more close-quarters. Concrete ruins?_

"_That'd work. I'll stick the bank and portal in the middle. Hard part will be making the second_ _one identical to the first."_

Normally, Drifter only needed one arena, while the second existed in a mirror dimension of sorts. Sending students to alternate dimensions would raise all sorts of questions, unfortunately, so he'd have to do things the old-fashioned way.

While his Ghost worked, Drifter walked deeper in the woods. He had a little experiment in mind, one that required a partner.

"I'm sure there's one of you around here somewhere," he called out. "I got a present for the first Grimm to come—hah, and here we've got a volunteer."

A Beowolf emerged from the bushes, sniffing and growling at him.

"Here boy, I got a friend you can play with."

Drifter summoned a Mote, and keyed it in his hand as it dissipated. Suddenly, an terrible howl split the air as a black portal opened up before him, spitting out a single figure before closing on itself.

The Taken Thrall he'd summoned was vaguely humanoid in shape. It'd probably stand around six feet tall, but its hunched posture made it appear much shorter.

Its body was a gradient of energy, a scorching white at the legs to a black torso and head, with a single, bright-white eye in the center of the head. The black arms ended in claws, burning orange with Solar energy. Flecks of dark energy continually floated off its body, as if it were dissolving into the air itself.

It stood, growling and twitching violently until it locked onto the Beowolf. The Grimm in question had flinched back at the summoning, clearly unsure of how to respond to the Taken in front of it.

As the Thrall approached, the Beowolf finally reacted. It charged forwards, sending a powerful swipe at it. The Thrall vanished, however, leaving a wispy, dark trail through the air before reappearing behind the Beowolf.

The Thrall clawed the side of the Beowolf with its claws, causing the Grimm to roar in pain before turning and trying to attack the Thrall again. The Thrall merely teleported again and continued its assault.

The game of cat-and-mouse went on for a few more passes, as Drifter watched in mild amusement. Eventually the Thrall was unable to teleport quickly enough, and the Beowolf's claws ripped the head off the late Taken, causing its body to fly backwards and dissolve into nothingness.

It was a not a clean victory for the Beowolf, however, who was sporting many wounds from the Thrall. Drifter pulled out his hand cannon and shot the Grimm, which went down without a sound.

He turned and walked back to the site of the arena, pleased with the outcome of his experiment. That Taken Thrall were only a little weaker than the resident Beowolves was a good sign.

Thrall were cheap to summon, and he could bring forth dozens or even hundreds at a time if he wished. While weak, their claws were lethal and their constant short-ranged teleportation made groups of them a nightmare to fight.

A mass of Taken Thrall should have no problem dealing with most problems that might crop up.

"_I'll have to come out here again sometime and try that with a Bank hooked up,__"_ he decided.

Banks weren't just a place to throw Motes. They also allowed him to generate Motes from slain enemies. In the past he'd been able to pull Motes from killing almost anything of significance—humans, aliens, undead, and so on.

If the Bank worked to pull Motes from Grimm, he'd never run low again. Remnant was simply crawling with them.

* * *

The end of another day marked another night in town for Drifter.

He glanced down at his scroll as he walked.

_Roman Torchwick: _

_Suspected Associates: Hei Xiong aka "Junior" … _

A brief scan of the database had given him some insight into the world of crime in Vale and some knowledge of the white suited man from the previous night.

While he had secured a nice position at Beacon for the near future, Drifter didn't quite trust Ozpin for the long-term.

He had nothing against the headmaster, really. He just didn't trust anyone anymore.

Establishing a few connections with the city's underworld could provide a useful fallback in the future. And in a way, he found their types more reliable.

"_Guy like Ozpin, you gotta make him like you. Have to work for it. Fools like these will stick by you given money and fear," _he thought.

As he continued down the weathered streets, Drifter could see a few shady types giving sideways glances. None of them tried anything, though. A man like him didn't seem to be an easy mark.

Even if they wanted to, they wouldn't get far. Knowing he might get on the wrong side of some Lightbearers—rather, "Aura users"—on this side of town, he'd swapped out his normal hand cannon for a rather special one.

A heavy, black revolver with sharp, angular lines and green light emanating from the core.

Thorn.

Its weight was reassuring, but not comforting.

Thorn was an ancient weapon, once cursed to drive the wielder insane. The curse had been since lifted, but the lethality remained. Imbued the darkest magic in the galaxy, built through hate and sorrow, it was a weapon created for slaying Guardians by devouring their Light.

Drifter had yet to test it on an Aura user, but he could imagine the effects.

Back home he'd never dare carry a weapon like it openly—it'd draw all kinds of attention from all the wrong people. Here, though, he could afford to relax.

Looking up, he saw the glowing lights from the building ahead. His destination, The Club, would be a good place to get started.

Drifter slipped in, facing no challenges. The inside of the club was dark, with flashing lights and loud music playing. Dozens of people were on the multicolored dance floor.

He stuck to the sides, making his way to the bar on the side. A few of the nearby patrons gave him curious looks. Unsurprising, given how his attire stuck out from the rest.

"_Looks like I'm in the right place,"_ Drifter thought as he saw a distinctive hat and white jacket.

Torchwick was here, speaking with a bearded man by the bar. They appeared to have a disagreement, as Torchwick turned and went for the exit, while the man groaned and shook his head.

He made his way over to the bar. Seeing Drifter he groaned again.

"And what do you want?" he challenged.

Drifter spread his arms with a smile. "What, can't a man come here to have some fun?"

The man rolled his eyes. "Not dressed like that. You a Huntsman or something?"

"Nah, just new in town. I reckon you're Junior"

"Hm, so you know who I am," Junior replied, stepping over to the bar. He grabbed a drink from the bartender, but kept an eye on Drifter the entire time.

"Course I do, I came here just for you," Drifter said, leaning next to Junior. "Like I said, I'm new in town. Lookin' to make some friends."

"I run a business," he replied stiffly, taking a drink. "Not a social club."

Drifter laughed. "I get that brother, everyone's gotta make a living somehow. I could use some information here and there, maybe some of your guys to watch my back later on. That sort of thing."

"Is that so? If you've got the Lien, we can make something work."

"I got plenty of that, don't you worry. Saw you over there talking to ol' Torchwick, I figure you're in the market for a new customer now?"

Junior grumbled. "Idiot sent my men against a Huntress, what'd he expect?" He gave Drifter a sideways glance. "It'd be smart to not throw around names like that though. Never know who's listening. Speaking of, you got a name? Always nice to know who you're doing business with."

"Wu Ming."

"Don't suppose that's your real name?"

Drifter shrugged. "I've got a few. It's as real as Hei Xiong, anyways."

Junior raised an eyebrow. "What's that supposed to m—"

"Strawberry Sunrise, no ice. Oh! And one of those little umbrellas," a voice next to them cut in.

Junior pushed himself off the bar and looked over at her. "Aren't you a little young to be in this club, blondie?"

Drifter turned to look at the blonde girl, quickly glancing her over.

"_Quite a provocative outfit she's got on. Those bracelets don't look normal to me, guessing they're one of those Mecha-Shift weapons everyone's got. Could be another Huntress."_

"Aren't you a little old to be called Junior?" she shot back.

Junior crossed his arms. "So you know who I am, huh? You here for pleasure or business?"

She glanced over at Drifter, eyeing him up. "I got business with you, Junior."

"Don't worry about me, he and I were just about finished," Drifter told her with a wave. "I'll swing by later, we can work out all the little details," he added with a look towards Junior.

He stepped away from the two, giving them some space. Drifter didn't care much for eavesdropping. At least, not when it wasn't anything of importance.

Leaning back, he swept his gaze over the crowd. So many carefree people partying and enjoying themselves was something he had never seen back on Earth.

Drifter wondered if he'd ever been to a real party before. He once got a front-row seat for watching a team of Guardians beat down Tech Witches and stuff high explosives down the mouth of a wish-granting space dragon. Not quite the same as a nightclub, but he would certainly call it a party.

Hearing a commotion, he looked up to see the blonde girl punching Junior across the dance floor. Her bracelets expanded to reveal several gun barrels, and Junior's men began drawing weapons.

"_Hah, called it! Guess I can assume anything weird these people carry is a gun of some kind. And now it looks like the real party is about to start."_

The ordinary patrons screamed and fled as Junior's men engaged the girl. She jumped into the air as they closed in, punching the ground on impact and creating a shock wave that sent the men flying.

Drifter ducked as one of them was sent past him and behind the bar, where he crashed noisily. He looked back to where the man had landed and saw something that got his interest.

"_Looks like Drifter's got himself a free Strawberry Sunrise,_" he thought, grabbing the forgotten drink and pushing the umbrella aside to take a sip. _ "Not bad at all. Sure beats boiled Vex milk."_

He turned his attention back to the fight. Most of the guards were down, and it looked like the DJ was next. The DJ, wearing a giant teddy bear mask, had pulled out a gun and began spraying at the girl. She nimbly evaded the inaccurate fire, jumping behind the equipment and giving the DJ a thorough beat down before throwing him back towards the center of the room.

There, in the center, were another two girls walking up. One in a red dress, the other in a white one. They spoke to each other briefly before engaging the first girl.

"_This damn world's crazy,"_ Drifter thought, shaking his head. _"What's with all these heavily armed girls swinging guns and blades?"_

He watched the fight with interest. The newcomers were definitely a cut above the rest of Junior's men.

"Are they Huntresses too? Maybe rogue ones," Drifter muttered aloud. He stuck an open hand behind the bar. "Hey Ghost," he whispered, "get me some data. Don't let them see you."

The Ghost appeared, covertly scanning the fighters from its position.

From the two fights he'd now witnessed, Drifter felt like he was getting a good understanding of the capabilities of Huntresses. They were fast. Very fast, and their skill in melee combat was commendable.

He'd even go as far as to say their proficiency in these areas surpassed Guardians. Even Guardians of the Titan class, known for their love of barehanded fighting, would look slow and simple comparatively. Not that it speed was much of a hindrance for them, when a single punch could literally turn an enemy to dust.

"Ouch!" he remarked, as the blonde girl got the better of the other two and sent them flying into the wall with powerful kicks.

"_Yang Xiao Long. Hotheaded brawler with a penchant for trouble," _Drifter summarized, glancing at the data his Ghost had pulled. Finding out the blonde girl was an incoming student at Beacon was a useful bit of information.

Junior reappeared on the far end of the dance floor. This time he looked ready, carrying a massive rocket launcher on his shoulders.

"You're gonna pay for this," he growled, pointing it at the girl, who squared off against him.

"Hey now!" Drifter called out. "I think now's a good time to stop. You crazy kids are about to destroy the whole damn building."

The two stilled, turning to look at him. Junior seemed annoyed. The girl looked like she'd found another target.

"She wrecked my bar!"

"Stay out of this, unless you want some of this too!"

Drifter set his drink down and pushed himself off the bar, walking towards the two. The girl stiffened as he approached, pointing a shotgun-gauntlet at him.

"Easy now," Drifter said, raising his hands. "I can pay for the damages, Junior. Consider it a gift to start our new friendship. And you, Miss Xiao Long, should stand down. I'd hate to see one of my students hurt in a bar brawl."

Yang's face paled and she stepped away. "N-No way. You're not a Professor at Beacon, are you?"

He winked. "I'll be seeing you in class in a week. Don't worry, this'll be our little secret. Besides you didn't start this fight, you finish—well, no, you did start this fight didn't you? Still, I won't tell."

Her combat rage gone, Yang looked mortified at the revelation. Junior shot Drifter a glare.

"Seriously? You can't expect me to ignore what she's done."

"None of your boys died, and I'll pay to fix your club up. Just look the other way for me, will ya?" Drifter turned to Yang and gestured toward the door. "Why don't you head out for now, while Junior and I talk."

She nodded mutely before hurrying towards the door.

"Damn trouble-making brats," Junior complained, setting his launcher down. "You better have enough Lien to cover this damage. This place is a mess."

Drifter patted him on the shoulder. "Like I said, I got plenty. Just send me the bill. Gotta say though, all your men beat up by a little girl again? Not a good look, brother."

Junior threw his hands up in resignation. "They're cheap goons. I stick 'em in suits and give them a weapon. I don't expect trained Huntresses to come down here and pick fights."

Yang Xiao Long was not, in fact, a trained Huntress yet, but Drifter decided that part was best left unsaid.

"I get it," he replied instead. Drifter leaned forward conspiratorially. "Though if you're looking for a firepower upgrade, I might just have the thing."


	3. Chapter 3

Ding!

The bell chimed as Drifter entered the shop.

"Be right there," called an elderly voice from the back.

It was a clean little store, designed for an upscale clientele—if the tasteful interior was anything to go by. Display cases ran the perimeter of the room, but most were empty.

The shopkeeper emerged and stepped behind the counter. An older man, with a lined face and patchy white hair. He flinched slightly upon seeing Drifter, but kept his composure.

"How can I help you today sir?" the shopkeeper asked. "I'm afraid our current selection is limited," he added, gesturing to the cases.

"Don't you worry about that," Drifter responded.

He walked up to the counter, lifting the case he had been carrying, and set it down between them.

Popping the lock, he opened the case and turned it so the shopkeeper could look inside. The man breathed in sharply upon seeing the contents.

"I got some Dust here. Looking to sell, you interested?"

"O-Of course!" he started. "Dust has been so scarce recently. Between Torchwick is robbing Vale blind, damn him, and the White Fang attacking the SDC convoys..." the man trailed off, shaking his head. "You must be the first person in months to have extra Dust to sell."

"Guess my preparation paid off," Drifter remarked with a smile. "So how much we lookin' at here?"

"I can give you market price?" he offered.

Drifter nodded.

"Excellent," the man smiled back. "Give me a moment, I need to get a scale and measure what you have," he explained, moving to the side and rummaging through the cabinets.

As the old man set about his work, Drifter tried to stifle a laugh.

Dust, the people of Remnant wanted Dust above all else. For them it was a vital resource, integral to their way of life.

For Drifter, though? He found that all it took was a little Glimmer infused with his Light to create new Dust. Solar, Arc, and Void Light could create Fire, Lightning, and Gravity Dust respectively.

He need to experiment more with other types to Dust. If he could find some for sale, his Ghost could analyze the composition. From what he had seen so far, Dust was a kind of Light-infused crystal. Curiously, it did not work outside Remnant's atmosphere, implying that proximity to the planet itself was the source of the energy. His Ghost had yet to find anything from its scans, however.

Drifter's eyes lit up as he saw the hefty sum adding up, as the shopkeeper measured and calculated the value of the crystals.

If he turned all his Glimmer to Dust, he could be the wealthiest man on Remnant! Not that he would, of course, as that would draw unwanted attention.

Plus, Torchwick's robberies had driven the price of Dust sky-high. Drifter wasn't about to let the man's efforts go to waste.

One transaction later, and Drifter left the shop and proceeded down the street again. The value of the entire case of Dust came out to nearly seventy thousand Lien-or about two years' salary for an average worker. Not a huge amount, but enough for a comfortable few months.

His pockets now had comfortable weight to them. Some Lien lined them, while he sent the rest to the bank account of one Wu Ming.

Being a literal alien to the planet made opening an account challenging. Luckily for him, government cybersecurity was nothing to his Ghost.

And so Wu Ming was born. Immigrant from Mistral, forty years old, and a wandering artist. That'd explain the large, irregular deposits to any prying eyes. Or so he hoped.

He would likely have to make a second identity to register with Beacon soon. Ozpin had accepted a certain amount of secrecy, but he seemed like the sort who overall enjoyed having his bases covered.

Drifter couldn't imagine they would allow him to become an official Beacon instructor without at least some personal information—not that he could blame Ozpin for his caution.

After covering a few more blocks, Drifter ended up back outside The Club. It was still a bright, early afternoon, and the street in front of The Club was deserted. He let himself in the front door and walked through the empty entrance towards the main hall.

"Ah, you're here," one guard by the dance floor said, jerking his thumb towards the bar. "Junior's waiting for you."

Drifter nodded, heading towards Junior.

The main hall was practically empty, except for a handful of Junior's men working to clean and repair the damage from the other night. Progress had been fast; at the pace they were working, they could reopen in another day.

He noticed the girls noted the girls in the distinctive dresses standing to the side. Seemed they had already recovered from the fight. Most of Junior's men were not as quick to recover, however. The fight from the other night had definitely thinned his numbers.

He supposed it was the difference between having Aura and having none. He found it odd so many people in Remnant lived without it.

"Wu, good to see you again," Junior welcomed him, having walked over to meet Drifter halfway. "How've you been?"

Drifter caught the hint of expectation in the man's voice.

"I'm all right. Here, got something for you" he replied, reaching in his pocket for a stack of Lien and tossing it over. "This outta cover the damages."

Junior caught it and flipped through the cards, nodding. "You came through, I can respect that. Nice to have _someone_ reliable around!" Junior rose his voice at the end, shooting a glare at his men.

Drifter laughed. "Glad to hear it. That's not all I got for you, though. Brought a few of those guns, if you're interested. You got somewhere I can set 'em down?"

He received a quizzical glance from Junior, who was pointedly looking at the empty-handed Drifter. "Alright, follow me," he eventually said with a shrug.

Drifter followed him to the back and through a set of doors, coming to The Club's stock room.

"This'll do. You got them under your coat or something?"

"Not quite," Drifter said with a grin. "Transmat firing!"

"Transmat wh-"

A long, short wooden crate appeared in front of them with a flash.

"What the heck?!" Junior shouted. "What was that?"

"Trade secret," Drifter said while stepping over to the crate and prying off the top. "Don't worry about it."

The crate's lid came off, clattering to the ground. The two men stood beside it, peering inside. A row of ten submachine guns sat inside, a faint orange glow coming from them and the word "VEIST" marked on the grips.

Junior tilted his head to inspect the sides. "Fancy looking things."

Drifter reached inside, picking one up and patting the top.

"Got the best for you, brother. Side-loading submachine guns. 900 rounds per minute, integrated suppressor, and an internal Solar-er, Fire Dust reactor to give your shots a little extra kick. Got an on-board computer too, helps with targeting and recoil."

Junior whistled appreciatively as Drifter handed him the gun. "Quite a long list. Where'd you get these, some kind of Atlas tech?" he asked while he looked it over.

"You guessed it."

Junior was wrong, but Drifter wasn't about to correct him. No point in opening the 'extraterrestrial technology' box of worms if he could help it. The presence of a technologically advanced, secretive military power like Atlas was a boon in that regard--Drifter could write off anything strange as being a stolen prototype from Atlas.

"Can't wait to see how they perform, then. Atlas always had the craziest stuff. How much do I owe you?"

"Couple thousand, just to cover transport costs. Consider these a sample of sorts. If you like them, I'll get you more."

"You really came through on this," Junior replied. He extended a hand to shake Drifter's. "My thanks. Though I'm guessing you're wanting something in return now?"

"A little information," Drifter admitted. "Hoping to meet that Torchwick fella, know where I could find him?"

Junior shook his head. "Roman's a hard man to find. He and I are done, anyway," he said. His voice carried a hint of anger.

"He's that unhappy with your men, huh?"

"Maybe," he answered, setting the gun back in the crate. "Better for me, though. I hear he's got new partners, including the White Fang. Don't know why he's working with them, but terrorists are always bad for business."

"Huh, White Fang. Haven't had the pleasure of meeting them myself, but I've heard of them. They're the train robbers, aren't they?"

"Something like that. Those Faunus claim they're about equality, but from what I've seen they just want anarchy," Junior groused. "Their presence in Vale is growing, that only means trouble for us."

Drifter nodded in understanding. He thought quietly for a moment before turning to Junior.

"Tell me about them."

The Faunus were an item of interest to Drifter. Nothing like them existed back on Earth. When he'd first seen the animal traits on people in Vale, he'd assumed they were just an odd fashion choice.

If the archives were any indication, Golden Age humans had worn stranger things.

He'd have to research their species more later on. He was rather curious as to their origins. Magic gone wrong, perhaps?

Drifter decided to investigate the White Fang as well. If they'd work with humans like Torchwick, they'd probably be open to work with him too. An organization like theirs would surely need guns and Dust. He could establish ties with them and make some Lien alongside a few new friends.

Right now, Drifter wanted to play both sides-doing so had served him well in the past.

There was no such thing as too many friends, after all.

He wanted Gambit to get big. Real big. He'd seen how the Hunters loved to fight, and he saw potential there.

Drifter could use them to farm Motes, and pick up a new crew along the way. The thought excited him, a rare emotion for the man.

There was no Vanguard or Darkness in Remnant, and so, nothing to challenge him.

Beacon was a start but he'd need more than Glimmer and Grimm. He needed manpower, information, and for all the other factions of Vale to stay out of his business.

He believed Junior would prove his value in time, but getting in bed with the White Fang could be beneficial too.

He spent over an hour at The Club getting information. Junior knew few detials about White Fang operations, but he knew enough to be useful. Rival gangs were being pushed out of Faunus-heavy districts of Vale. These territorial shifts indicated the likely storage locations and meeting points for the White Fang.

"Adam Taurus and Roman Torchwick. Doesn't make much sense, but those'll be the major players in Vale now," Junior had told him.

"Is it odd they're working together?"

Junior had nodded, stroking his beard in thought. "The Fang hate humans. And Torchwick, his thing was looting expensive stuff, the big jobs. He switched up his entire MO to Dust only at the same time he allied with the Faunus. If I didn't know better, I'd say he was working for them."

Drifter thought on their conversation as he rode the Bullhead back to Beacon.

Junior was right, he realized. It was strange for someone like Torchwick to drop everything for Dust robberies and an alliance with the White Fang.

Perhaps the Fang merely had deep pockets. Or, perhaps they were missing something. Assuming Torchwick didn't have a change of heart, he wondered if there was a third party involved.

Regardless of their hidden motivations, he found the idea of investigating the White Fang appealing, as it would be a new experience. Back home there were pirates, outlaws, and invaders, but terrorists were something he never experienced before.

Disembarking from the Bullhead, he began to walk back towards his room. While crossing the Beacon campus he noticed a familiar black-and-green suited figure coming down the path towards him.

"Ah, Drifter. How was your trip to Vale?" Ozpin asked as he approached.

"Good, good. Vale's got a lot to see."

"I'm glad you're enjoying yourself. Glad I ran into you actually, I had something to talk to you about."

Drifter raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

"Yes, well, I'd just like to ask how you're progressing? I haven't yet had a chance to see your progress for myself."

"It's going well, should be done in a day. You want come by and see it? You'll be the first to get a grand tour of the arenas."

"That is an excellent idea. I have a few other things to discuss then, as well."

Drifter nodded. "Send me a time and I'll be there, boss."

Ozpin wished him a good evening, and the two parted as Drifter gave a casual two-fingered salute. As the other man went out of view, Drifter's smile dropped.

Ozpin was an enigma to him. Drifter could tell the man was several lifetimes old, but he was not a Light wielder like himself.

The headmaster hid his thoughts well, but Driftet could tell Ozpin only wanted him because he was an unknown.

Fine by him. After all, he just wanted Ozpin's kids for Gambit.

Still, Drifter knew he would have to remain cautious. It was all pleasantries now, but sooner or later they would be trying to play each other.

Drifter was accustomed to deceit, but rarely had he had to deal with such subtlety. Back in the Dark Ages, diplomacy was nothing more than keeping up boldfaced lies until someone pulled out a gun.

Even the Guardian Age didn't require much subtlety, since most people didn't trust him anyways.

Returning to his room, Drifter scanned his scroll to get inside and flipped on the lights.

"Ghost, pull everything we have from the database on the White Fang," he called out as he sat down at the desk. "Faunus too."

It'd be a long night.

The Ghost complied, scanning the computer and pulling up the needed files. Drifter began to click through them, his eyes flying across the screen as he quickly read through the page of information, committing important facts to memory before switching to the next page.

He idly flipped one of his signature coins—green jade with twin snakes-in his left hand while he read. His Ghost stayed hovering quietly by his shoulder.

Drifter sat there for hours, long past the setting of the sun, and continued to read. He finished learning all he could about the White Fang from the database, though Beacon lacked a great deal of information about their inner workings.

He moved on to learning about the Faunus species, although they themselves appeared to be shrouded in more mystery than even the White Fang.

_'Despite the concerted efforts of global teams in researching the origin of Faunus, current theories differ greatly, with the field having one of the most skewed theory-to-data ratios of any subject.'_

_'Read more: Faunus origin theories'_

_'Other topics that may interest you: Fairy tales of Remnant.'_

"Fairy tales, huh?" Drifter muttered.

He clicked.


	4. Chapter 4

Drifter stood by the arenas early in the morning, waiting for Ozpin. He had arrived early in the morning, letting his Ghost out to complete the finishing touches. He was careful to conceal his Ghost well before Ozpin scheduled his arrival. His Ghost was better kept a secret.

In the meantime, he sat on a rock, tossing one of his jade coins to pass the time.

The secrecy reminded him of the early years of his life. After he had first become Risen, he had hid his Light-given power. Instead of going off to fight, he opted to live a simple life in an isolated village, trying to fit back into normal human life.

None discovered his true identity, and life was good for a time. When the other villagers weren't around, he'd use his Light to work small miracles and help others when he was able.

That was centuries ago, though. He'd since learned the importance of self above all else.

Unfortunately, the peaceful life in the village did not last; the squabbles of the other Risen reached the village. The Iron Lords, so-called warriors of good, used the village to prepare an ambush for a group of Warlords. In the ensuring battle, everything burned, and none of the villagers survived.

It was his first real experience of what the Light was could do—the power to save humanity, being abused by fools in their petty disputes.

"Ah, good morning, Drifter," a voice broke his musings.

Turning, he saw Ozpin approaching with Glynda at his side.

"Morning," Drifter replied. "Ready to tour the arenas?"

"Lead the way, we will follow."

With the introductions done, Drifter stood and walked towards the center of the first arena.

They sat at the base of the cliffs below Beacon, positioned right next to each other. A thick swath of forest separated the two.

The circular arenas were small enough so that a fighter could jog across one in a minute or two. However, there was enough space to make sure positioning and weapon choice mattered. While fighters could see across the arena, they'd need to close distance to take out Grimm unless they carried a rifle.

"As you can see, I cleared the forest away from here," he explained. "The rock base of the cliff to our left is one zone. The forest up ahead is another, and that concrete rubble to the right marks our third."

Ozpin and Glynda looked around at each point as Drifter mentioned them.

"This is a lot of work for one person, especially in just a few days," Glynda noted. Her voice carried a hint of suspicion.

Drifter waved it off: "Eh, it's nothing, I've done this many times before. Not like I had to do any heavy lifting, anyway."

"Oh, is your Semblance related to telekinesis?" she inquired.

He nodded. "Something like that."

The lie came with no hesitation.

"We're reaching the center now, and up on this little hill is the Bank," he told them, pointing at a short metal cylinder sticking out of the ground.

He walked up to it and crouched, slipping a hand around to press a hidden button.

With a hiss it unfolded and rose, revealing a large, metal-capped glass cylinder. The inside appeared to burn with swirling black and white flames. On each side were four triangular shaped ports.

"That is a most interesting device," Ozpin noted.

"My pride and joy," Drifter responded. "Built every one of these myself. Grimm will come from one side of the arena at a time, students will go there, kill 'em, grab Motes, and bank them here.

"There's a second arena exactly like this one on over there," he said, pointing back the way they had come. "Got a little fence and some rocks around each one to mark the arena boundaries."

"I see. The setup is impressive. And your Banks," Ozpin said, gesturing to it with his cane, "they are what will let us harvest and use these Motes?"

Drifter didn't answer immediately, first glancing between Ozpin and Glynda. "In a way, yes."

"You may be frank, Glynda is trustworthy."

"All right then," Drifter said with a nod. "These Banks will pull Motes from Grimm near them. Like I said earlier, I believe they're a solution to your infestation."

"And what do the Motes do?" Glynda asked. "Besides summon Grimm, I mean. How do they help us fight them?"

"They're power," he replied. "Think of them as being like Dust—raw potential, raw power. With enough time to study them, who knows what's possible? I bet you could make a weapon to counter Grimm on a large scale."

Controlling Grimm was another likely possibility he knew, but left it unsaid. No reason to make them panic at the notion of the wrong person doing so.

"And what did you use them for previously?" Ozpin asked. "I recall you mentioned past employers."

Drifter cursed inwardly at the direct question. He'd been hoping to avoid it for a while longer, but knew it was inevitable. Eventually he'd have to explain the summoning of the Taken.

Better bite the bullet now.

He leaned towards the two, dropping his voice. "Believe it or not, there're monsters out there other than Grimm. With Motes, you can summon them. Use them. Make them fight for you."

He leaned back and gestured to the dark forest behind them.

"Look at this, you've got a forest full of Grimm right next to your own home. Huntsmen and Huntresses are strong, but they ain't enough to win a war! What you need—what we need—is an army of our own."

"Show me," Ozpin commanded. His posture remained as calm as ever, but his eyes carried a sharp glint to them.

"Sure thing, brother. Let's just get some space first," Drifter replied, stepping away from them.

He pulled a Mote into his left hand, keeping his right free to grab his gun, just in case either of his companions reacted poorly to the summoning.

He keyed it, spinning the little pyramid around his finger as it faded into the air.

The unearthly howl of a Taken portal sounded for the second time on Remnant. The dark portal opened in the air, spitting out a Taken Thrall, before closing in on itself.

Despite what he may have suggested, controlling the Taken was no easy task. Even for something as weak as a Thrall, it cost almost five times as many Motes to control it as it did to summon it.

With so many motes invested in the Thrall, Drifter was able to sense the potency of the Darkness surrounding him. It was as if he gripped the very threads of the Darkness itself and yanked them to control the Taken Thrall like a puppet.

He willed the Thrall to remain still, and it did. The inhuman creature stood before the three, hunched over. Its body twitched violently.

Ozpin and Glynda both flinched as the portal appeared, and they stepped away from the creature that fell out of it.

"W-What is that?!" Glynda gasped. "A monster?"

"Of sorts," he replied.

Ozpin approached the Thrall, careful to keep some distance. With no reaction coming from it, he adjusted his glasses and gave it a close look.

"Most interesting," the headmaster said. "I've ever seen such a thing. What exactly is this?"

Drifter shrugged. "Don't really know myself, but it's fast, strong, and loyal. A bit like a dog," he said with a laugh. "We found them on the other side of Remnant, in the far deserts past Vacuo. Not Grimm, I think, but about as tough a Beowolf."

Another lie, and one he had prepared beforehand if needed. It was easier than trying to explain how it was actually a corrupted foot soldier, taken from a space-bug monarchy built on Dark magic.

"Is it safe?" Glynda asked, as she too approached the Thrall to look it over.

"Sure," Drifter replied easily. "It only attacks Grimm. None of those near us, so it'll just stand here until I unsummon it."

"I can tell it's not a Grimm," she replied. "It has Aura, but it's faint and cold. It feels wrong."

"There are always new discoveries in this world, I suppose," Ozpin muttered. "Could you describe how you came upon it in the first place?"

Drifter nodded. "Ruins in the deserts, like I said. I'd been in the region, wandering for some time. Come in contact with some locals and they ask me for help with a monster problem.

"I'm thinking it's just Grimm, so I head in the ruins. A dark pyramid, and I found these fellas inside. Didn't attack me unless I attacked them. So, I experimented with them. Studied them. A year later and I figured out the secret.

"Never been able to find that ruin again, nor the local tribe. But after seeing how these things fight Grimm, I realized their potential. An army of our own—they're our Salvation."

"And so," Ozpin filled in, "you want to gather more of these. But to do so you need people to slay Grimm near your Banks?"

"You got it. Takes more than just the Banks, though, need the whole setup. Gotta kill lots of Grimm too-that's why I'm here, and not running through the woods shooting the Grimm myself," Drifter explained.

"This is a most intriguing development," Ozpin replied. "I see the potential, and it would be in Beacon's best interest to help you with your research."

Glynda sniffed. "I am wary of these monsters, but I agree we should carefully explore their potential." She gave Drifter a pointed look. "If you learn more about them, I trust we will be the first to know?"

"Of course."

"Good, good. If we are to begin research into Motes and these creatures," Ozpin continued, "I feel it is proper to extend to you a formal position at Beacon, both as a lead researcher for this project, and an instructor for Gambit."

Drifter smiled. "Sure thing, I'd be happy to accept."

"Excellent. Although, we will need a real name. Routine paperwork, I'm sure you understand," Ozpin said with a pointed stare over his glasses.

He gave a mock sigh. "Fine, fine, put me down as Dredgen Hope."

He studied Ozpin and Glynda's faces, looking for any signs of recognition. There were none.

Ozpin smiled back and offered his hand. "A unique name to be sure. Glad to have you aboard, Mister Hope. Glynda will send you everything that needs to be signed?"

The woman nodded. "I'll send it to your Scroll by the end of the day."

"Thanks," Drifter told them, shaking their hands. "But please, just call me Drifter."

* * *

After the demonstration, Ozpin and Glynda returned to the headmaster's office.

"What do you think of him?" Ozpin asked her.

Glynda sighed. "I don't know what to think. I certainly don't trust him. That monster he created, we've no idea what it is. Is it possible that he and Salem—"

"No," Ozpin interjected. "No, I like to consider myself a good judge of character. He's not one of her pawns, of that I am sure. Too free spirited."

"What of the monster, then?" she asked.

"I doubt that's one of Salem's creations," Ozpin replied. "She only has power over the soulless Grimm. Despite its appearance, it has some kind of Aura."

Glynda frowned. "So an unknown?"

"Precisely." Ozpin moved behind his desk and took a seat. "I've never heard of monsters such as those, but it's possible they existed on the outskirts of the world and outside our knowledge."

"I suppose that is true, especially for the regions past Vacuo."

"Indeed. It is also important to remember that my power, and Salem's, resulted from only one of the gods' many actions on Remnant. This may result from something else entirely, unrelated to either of us."

"If Salem is ignorant of their existence, this may prove beneficial for us," Glynda reasoned.

Ozpin nodded. "My thoughts exactly. It's been a long time since we've had any hidden cards on our side. This Dredgen Hope—or Drifter, as he prefers—will be a valuable piece against Salem."

"So you trust him?"

"No, not yet. But can we afford not to?"

"I suppose not."

Ozpin tapped his desk for a moment, deep in thought. "Dredgen Hope is an unusual name. Not a modern one, for sure."

Glynda looked up in surprise. "You don't suppose…" she trailed off.

"It's a possibility. When we first met, he said a most curious thing to me: 'You're like me.' I believe he knows what, but not who, I am."

"If he truly is from your era, why reveal himself now?"

"A good question. For now we can only guess at his motives. I have many questions I'd like to ask him myself, but I fear if we are too aggressive, we will drive him away and straight to Salem's arms. For now we must wait and watch. Glynda, can I trust you to help me with this?"

"Of course," she answered. "I will monitor him closely."

"Thank you, but take care to be discreet," Ozpin said with a nod. "No need to ruffle any feathers just yet. And speaking of which, I will get back in contact with our little bird soon. Another pair of eyes would be useful."

* * *

Drifter sat back in the office chair in his room, submitting the last of the forms with a click of the keyboard. He kept as much as he could blank, only answering the bare minimum, and letting his Ghost generate all the fine details so they'd stand up to scrutiny.

Dredgen Hope, born in a village on the outskirts of Vacuo. Forty years old.

To take the title of Dredgen was a risk, he realized, but one he had to take. It comforted him that Ozpin had not recognized.

"Dredgen" was a title adopted by Light-wielders who also used the Darkness. To don it was to make a bold statement, one that would draw attention from all factions and create strong foes and allies.

If there were any others from Earth on Remnant, they'd come for Drifter immediately, for better or for worse.

Dangerous, perhaps, but at least Drifter would learn of their presence quickly. If other forces of the Light or Dark were present in Remnant, he could not afford to be ignorant of their existence.

As he thought back on that morning, Drifter was still pleasantly surprised that Ozpin had accepted his cover story for the Taken Thrall so easily. He had assumed that the deserts of Vacuo would be a mysterious area and thus relied heavily on that mystery in the story.

Despite how smooth progress had been thus far, he was aware Ozpin did not fully trust him yet. The headmaster might even get too nosy for Drifter's liking as time went on. However, that did not matter to him. As long as he got Gambit running, things would take care of themselves, and he would have a steady supply of Motes and a pool of fighters to recruit into his crew.

Even if Ozpin were to find out the truth and remove him from Beacon, he could get Hunters to follow.

After all, Gambit was like a drug.

Drifter knew all too well that even the best of people would question themselves once they felt the intoxicating power of the Darkness at their disposal. Nearly every Guardian that played one game of Gambit came back for another.

Well, except those whose team permanently died. They always seemed to hold a grudge.

On the desk, his Scroll began to vibrate. Drifter saw the caller and frowned. He'd have to pick up a second Scroll soon. If he got a call from Junior while next to someone like Ozpin, there would be some troublesome questions sent his way.

He picked up the Scroll and answered. "Junior, how's it hanging brother?"

On the screen he saw Junior standing against a dimly lit wall. From the faint music in the background, Drifter assumed he was calling from The Club.

"Hey Wu, got some info I thought might interest you in," he said.

"Oh? What's that?"

Junior checked the sides before turning back and answering. "Fang's made a move on my turf. Small abandoned warehouse a few blocks away, bordering the industrial district. I don't care for it, but they do. One of my guys saw a bunch of theirs offloading supplies in it."

Drifter hummed in thought. "Anyone important there?"

Junior shrugged. "No clue. That's all I know."

"Then give me a few of your men. I'll go check it out tonight."

"What?! Are—" Junior leaned closer to his Scroll. "Are you crazy?!" he hissed. "I'm not starting a war with the Fang, no way!"

"Easy there, brother," Drifter said. "Not starting a war, just want to have a chat. I can make a deal with 'em."

"And they're not receptive?" the other man challenged.

Drifter shrugged. "I'm sure I can make it work. Besides, if things go sideways, your men got brand new guns to dig us out with."

Junior hesitated before replying. "Fine, but try not to start anything. I can give you, like, four guys. That's it."

"Sounds good, brother. I'll come by The Club later."

The call disconnected. Drifter stood, taking a second to stretch.

"Come on, Ghost," he called. "Let's go meet some bad guys."

* * *

"—and I want all my guys back tonight, and in one piece. Wait, four pieces!" Junior shouted over the music as he tried to keep up with Drifter. The two were walking across the dance floor of The Club, back to the entrance.

Drifter rolled his eyes. "Don't worry* brother. I'll have your daughters back by midnight. Safe and sound."

"Wu, I'm serious. Between Roman and that blonde chick I can't afford to lose any more men."

"Money problems already?"

"Forget the Lien. If word gets out working in my gang is a suicide job, no amount of money will help."

"Hey, if the Fang get violent, I'll put them down myself," Drifter reassured him. "Your boys are just here for numbers—these them?" he asked as the two reached the entrance of The Club, looking at four of Junior's men who were standing there.

They wore the distinctive black suits and hats with red glasses, but this time each one carried a gun from the set Drifter had provided.

"Yeah, and we got you a truck waiting out front. Don't start shooting unless they do, alright?"

"Junior, brother, have a little faith." Drifter turned to him. "Have I done you wrong yet?"

"Well, no—"

"Then don't worry and trust in ol' Drifter. Go make yourself a Strawberry Sunrise and relax. Let me worry about playing nice with the Fang."

Junior threw his arms up in resignation and walked away grumbling.

"All right boys," Drifter addressed the four henchmen. "Let's go say hello to the neighbors."

He and two of the men climbed in the back, while the other two sat in the front. The engine rumbled as it started up, and soon they were on their way.

The nighttime traffic was light in the area. They drove down empty, dark streets illuminated only by spotty lamps. Changes were clearly visible as they drove towards the industrial side. The roads had visible marks and holes, fences, and doors were coated in rust, and many of the buildings appeared to be in disrepair.

"Not the nicest neighborhood, huh?" Drifter noted aloud.

"Places like this get forgotten easily," one man in the back with him explained. "Stuff the factories make gets outdated, and suddenly the whole area shuts down. Council doesn't want to spend the money clearing it, so it sits until one of those big companies buys it."

"Perfect place for the Fang," the other man spoke up. "Lots of Faunus squatting in these buildings, I bet."

"Hmm, so I see," Drifter replied, looking out the window.

Drifter could see why Faunus would end up in the White Fang, if they were stuck living out here with nowhere to go. Too bad they were only normal citizens, he thought. If they were stronger, he'd be out recruiting them for Gambit in a heartbeat.

The truck rolled to a stop, and the group disembarked. The warehouse in front of them suited its surroundings—a sloped roof sporting patches of rust sitting upon weathered walls. If it weren't for the scattered crates by the door and the two armed guards there, it'd look downright unremarkable.

"Looks like they're not done unpacking," he muttered.

Drifter walked straight for the warehouse door with Junior's men falling in behind him. The guards tensed as the group approached, but didn't open fire—yet.

"Hey, get out of here. This place is off-limits," one of the White Fang guards shouted. He tried to sound authoritative, but his tail swishing from side-to-side gave away his nervousness.

Drifter noticed his behavior. The Faunus traits shared similarities with the real thing, he realized.

"Easy there hotshot, we just wanna pass on a message," he said, raising his hands.

"Junior's guys, right? You've got no business with us." the second guard added.

Both guards raised their guns at them as they closed more distance. Drifter and the others stopped as the guards did so, standing almost ten feet before them. He noticed their slow reactions and hesitation—the White Fang may have had fanaticism, but they lacked training for all their members.

"Well, we might," Drifter said with his signature smile. "Like I said, hoping you can pass on a message for us."

"For who?" the first guard asked.

"Adam Taurus."

He laughed. "Give up then. Adam's not even in Vale, not since that human—oof!"

The guard cut off as his partner elbowed him in the side.

"We can't do that, so buzz off before we shoot," the second guard said.

"Oh? Adam's not in the city, huh?" Drifter asked. "I don't suppose that other fella, what's his name—Roman Torchwick, is running things here?"

The first guard remained silent; the second growled.

"Maybe you can give my message to him instead?" Drifter pushed.

"Do you not understand what we're saying? Get outta here!" the first guard shouted.

Drifter shook his head. "You're on Junior's turf, brother. But, despite the wretched humans we may be, we're believers in the cause too. We're more than happy to let you shack up here. Do us a little favor in exchange, all right? Unless you want to explain to Torchwick why you started a war with Junior."

The guards exchanged glances before lowering their weapons.

"Fine," the second one huffed. "Tell me, but make it fast."

"Glad we could do business. Tell him I found a nice, big stockpile of Dust he missed. Figure he might want it. If he wants to talk, he's gotta go through Junior. Already sold some to that shop off Main, so he better hurry."

"Hm. That it?"

"That's all. We'll be out of your fur now," Drifter said as he began to walk away.

He suppressed a laugh as he felt the guards glaring at him under their masks. Looked like he'd touched a nerve.

"Let's go, fellas," Drifter told Junior's men. They nodded and moved back to the truck, throwing a few final glances at the Faunus guards.

If Torchwick wanted all the Dust in Vale, Drifter guessed that would draw his attention. If it didn't, he'd have to do things the hard way, either by tracking down Torchwick or committing a few robberies himself!

Drifter suspected the partnership between Torchwick and the White Fang had more to it than they let on. Meeting with the man himself would yield more answers.

He needed to identify all the major players in Vale before he went big, lest he risk being blindsided.

Drifter hated unknowns.

The drive back was short. As they entered The Club, they encountered a very relieved looking Junior.

"You're all back. Good," he said.

"See brother? Told you not to doubt." Drifter grinned and gave the man a pat on the shoulder.

"What'd you find out?"

He shrugged. "Not much. Needed to schedule a meeting with our friend Roman. By the way, you might get a visit from him soon."

Junior raised an eyebrow. "What's your business with Roman, anyway? You don't seem like the thieving type."

Drifter laughed. "Nah, I just want to ask him a few questions. I suspect something's up and he's got answers."

"What do you mean by that?" he asked.

"Nothing concrete yet, but I have a hunch," Drifter replied. He leaned next to Junior. "I think Roman's not the one pulling the strings," he added quietly.

Junior jerked back. "No way, Roman's his own boss. He'd never do someone else's work."

Drifter shrugged. "Like I said, a hunch. Keep it quiet for me, will ya?"

"Yeah, yeah, I can do that."

"Good. See you around, brother. And call me if Torchwick comes by."

Exchanging farewells, the two parted ways. Drifter began making the trip back to Beacon.

These routine trips tempted him to set up a Transmat from Beacon to The Club.


	5. Chapter 5

"Shoot, I take it back Oz. I figured you were one of those real sticky by-the-book types, but this makes me rethink everything I know about you."

"I assure you, this is perfectly standard procedure."

Drifter looked down from the top of the cliff at the sprawling forest hundreds of feet below, even catching glimpses of the Grimm within. He looked back over to Ozpin and the launch pads.

"Throwing your kids off a cliff is normal?" he asked.

"I thought you of all people would approve of this," Ozpin said with an amused look.

Drifter laughed. "Now don't get me wrong, this looks like the greatest thing I've seen since coming to Vale! Thanks for the invitation to watch, brother."

"Well, don't get too excited just yet." Ozpin took a sip from his mug. "When the students arrive, things will become truly interesting."

"I bet. Too bad we can't see them land."

"Oh, but we will."

Drifter squinted at the forest in the distance. "Seems a little too far, even if we had a scope."

The headmaster shook his head. He pulled his Scroll out of his pocket and waved it. "We have dozens of video feeds, which will stream live to our Scrolls."

"Huh. You've got this all sorted," Drifter remarked. "Wait—so you have a bunch of hidden cameras to spy on kids with?"

Ozpin was quiet for a moment. He adjusted his glasses and looked down at his Scroll.

"Well, if you phrase it like that, it sounds odd. However, the cameras are a necessity for the evaluation and safety of our prospective students," he explained.

"No worries brother, I'm just yanking your Ghost," Drifter said with a grin. "Uh," he coughed, "messing with you, I mean."

If Ozpin noticed the odd phrase, he did not show it.

The two stood there quietly. Ozpin continued to sip from his ever-present mug, while Drifter played with one of his coins.

Glynda walked up behind them, breaking the silence.

"Good morning, Ozpin, Mr. Hope," she greeted them.

"C'mon, don't call me that, Glynda."

"Dredgen?"

He shuddered at the thought. "Drifter is fine."

She raised an eyebrow. "I don't find it appropriate for a Beacon professor to go by such a title."

"How about I get my name legally changed to Drifter?" he asked.

Glynda ignored him.

"I've ensured all the cameras and feeds are working," she stated, turning to Ozpin. "I will send the announcement for the students to gather here."

Ozpin nodded. "Good. Thank you, Glynda. And, I checked on the artifacts last night, so everything should be in place."

Drifter considered the initiation setup. Back on Earth, Guardians jumped from high places all the time—the frequent bodies at the base of the Tower could attest to that. These students, however, did not have a Ghost to revive them. He wondered if Ozpin had some kind of failsafe on standby.

"What happens if they fail the landing?" Drifter asked.

"They hit the ground.

"Sounds messy."

"It can be."

"And their families are all right with this?"

Ozpin took a sip from his mug.

"They are," Glynda answered for him. "Ozpin mails out risk information prior to initiation."

Ozpin, still quiet, took another sip.

Glynda sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "You did send them out, right?"

"Oh look," Ozpin said abruptly, "the first of the students are arriving."

"Heh," Drifter shook his head. "Crazy."

After a few minutes, the students began to arrive. Drifter moved away to the far side of the launchpads. From there he observed the students, most of whom did not even glance his way in their eagerness to begin.

He looked down at the roster on his Scroll and read through their profiles, matching names and faces. Of all the students, two caught his eye from the start.

Yang Xiao Long. He'd already met her once. She seemed bold and reckless, a good start. Getting her hooked wouldn't be hard at all. If she could stomach the work, she would be a perfect candidate.

Ruby Rose. Drifter recognized her from the fight he witnessed against Torchwick. An impressive feat that earned her a spot at Beacon. Coincidentally, she was also the sister of Yang Xiao Long. She could also be a good recruit for Gambit, although if Ozpin had taken special interest in the girl he'd have to be careful.

Drifter flipped through the others.

Pyrrha Nikos. The thrill of Gambit should appeal to a competition fighter like her. He found it interesting she moved to Vale instead of remaining in Mistral. Perhaps she wished to escape her home and fame? If so, Gambit would be a perfect fit, Drifter thought with an inward laugh. Gambit didn't make you famous, it made you infamous.

Weiss Schnee. He recognized the last name and its sign of a powerful and wealthy family. He would avoid her unless she was particularly skilled or otherwise useful. Drifter didn't want to risk making an enemy of such a powerful family.

He skimmed the rest of the profiles. All the others seemed to be competent warriors themselves, but their files showed nothing noteworthy. He'd have to observe the initiation with care to see if anyone else was worth pursuing.

When recruiting for his crew, Drifter looked for personality above all else. He needed people with the right attitude, and a willingness to survive.

All the new students had lined up on the launch pads, and Ozpin began to speak.

"For years you have trained to be warriors, and now, your abilities will be evaluated…"

Drifter tuned out Ozpin and Glynda, instead examining the students' weapons and guessing their capabilities.

"… you will meet opposition along the way. Do not hesitate to destroy everything in your path, or you will die," Ozpin finished.

The headmaster's remarks struck him as a little morbid.

The pads began to launch the candidates, while one boy was frantically asking Ozpin questions.

"Oooh!" Drifter grimaced as the boy's pad activated and sent him sprawling through the air. "Don't think he'll make the landing," he muttered.

* * *

With the video feeds pulled up on his Scroll, Drifter watched the initiation closely. He mentally noted every significant action from the students, whether in combat or in their behavior. Anything that might indicate he or she would be a good fit for Gambit.

He remained on the side, away from Ozpin and Glynda, taking care to angle himself so he could deploy his Ghost. The little machine had connected itself to his Scroll, intercepting the feeds from every camera at once so Drifter could later replay them.

Too much information never hurt.

The students began to enter the forest, using their weapons in a variety of unique ways to make a safe landing. Soon, the first pairs were formed.

Ruby and Weiss made eye contact, marking them as partners. Drifter frowned at the pairing. The Schnee paired with Ozpin's special child would make it difficult to work with them without attracting attention. He'd have to put them aside, for now.

Pyrrha partnered with that boy who nearly died, Jaune. He seemed weak and forgettable. The boy would not an obstacle.

Soon after, Yang and Blake met and established their partnership. While confident in Yang's potential, he needed to learn more about the other girl. Ozpin's files on her were lacking, although he suspected the headmaster knew more than he let on.

Drifter continued to scroll through the feeds as the students progressed towards their objective and slaughtered any Grimm in their path. Despite how weak the Grimm they were fighting were, it still impressed him that they were so capable despite their youth.

Of course, live for a few centuries and all ordinary humans would seem like children.

Drifter saw Ruby and Weiss had yet again stopped to argue and he changed the feed.

Children indeed.

Glynda seemed upset about something. From the snippets he caught between her and Ozpin's conversation, it seemed Pyrrha's partner, Jaune, was the subject. Drifter quietly agreed with her—the boy's skill in combat was sorely lacking. In fact, it was a miracle he hadn't died already.

He did a double-take as two students rode the back of a large Grimm through the forest. Lie Ren and Nora Valkyrie, he noted their names with a shake of his head. They must have been crazy to try such a stunt. Drifter liked crazy.

The initiation continued to progress. That group of eight students saw the most action, as they were engaged by both a Nevermore and a Death Stalker. The other students had gathered their relics already and were heading back to the cliffs.

Drifter whistled appreciatively at their quick teamwork as the group split into fours and tackled each threat. Like Guardians facing their first Primeval Taken, the students made hasty plants and executed them with similar speed, working to beat back the Grimm.

All they needed was an Invader to make it a real party.

He leaned closer to his Scroll. Ruby jumped on a rope held between Blake and Yang, drawing it back, while Weiss held her with a glyph.

Far in front of them screeched the immobile Nevermore, its tail encased in ice.

The glyph suddenly activated, throwing Ruby towards the trapped Nevermore at incredible speed.

She caught its neck with her scythe, dragging it along as she began to sprint up the cliff face. At the top she stalled for a second as the Nevermore snagged the edge.

And then its head was ripped off.

Drifter's jaw dropped.

"Whoo! The best fights happen on the frontier!" he shouted, drawing funny looks from the other two. "Heh, sorry, old habits and all."

"Yes, I suppose they do," Ozpin agreed.

Drifter had to admit, despite the Nevermore being far less dangerous than a Taken Primeval, he'd never seen a team of Guardians finish any enemy as dramatically as those four had.

The other four had also done a fine job with their Death Stalker, although not in such an eye-catching manner as the others had.

After the students completed initiation, Drifter returned to his room. There he leaned back in the chair, his feet kicked up on his desk as the computer displayed live footage of Ozpin's announcement in the auditorium.

The headmaster made his remarks and announced the new teams that were formed among the now official students of Beacon.

RWBY and JNPR were the ones he'd have to monitor closely. Between them, Drifter saw six potential recruits. Maybe seven if he could get the Schnee girl involved without complications.

Plenty of potential among them. He only really needed three or four others for a crew.

Of course, they would have to prove themselves in an easy game of Gambit first.

Drifter's Ghost hovered by the computer, finished loading the videos it captured from initiation. He planned to spend the next few nights analyzing the footage.

"Gonna learn everything about these kids I can," Drifter explained to his silent Ghost. "Then I can approach a few of them, get 'em interested in what I have to offer."

His Ghost stared back at him.

Drifter frowned. "Don't give me that look."

It tilted in the air, as if asking a question.

"No, not creepy. It's called reconnaissance!"

* * *

"Huh," Torchwick said, looking down at his scroll.

The woman in the room looked at him. "What?"

He shook his head and puffed his cigar. "Nothing. Someone might be trying to make a move against me."

She raised an eyebrow at that. "Will it be a problem, Roman?"

"Of course not, you know me. I always tie up my loose ends."

"Like that White Fang defector?"

"Jeez, once this is done, I'll take care of that animal too." He stood, grinding his cigar out on the table. "Relax Cinder, I can handle my affairs."

"You'd better, Roman. For your sake."

Torchwick suppressed a shudder as he walked out.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

Hi all! I wanted to use this space to reply to some of the reviews. Also, thank you all for the positive support so far!

This was a shorter chapter, but I do have more on the way. I like to write a few chapters ahead so I have time to proof and edit.

1\. Thanks to everyone who pointed out the Glenda vs. Glynda mistake. Can't believe I missed that!

2\. Thanks to Westbrook57 for the lore tips.

3\. _"I do hope at some point we get to see Drifter face off against some Remnant folks. I assume he still has some bit of Light in him, so does he still have his powers, ie resurrection?"_

Yes, Drifter has kept his Light powers. He can resurrect, however as I understand the lore, he avoids death as if he were an ordinary human and dislikes resurrecting.

4._ "I like it, but I'm worried that this will be drifter just reacting to things, please have him make an actual impact in the world…"_

He will have an impact!

5\. _"As interesting as it seems, I'd rather you just keep Drifter and his taken as the only element from Destiny in this fic. Introducing other guardians and players from the game would probably just overcomplicate things."_

I completely understand this. Rest assured, Drifter and the Taken will be the only Destiny characters involved.


	6. Chapter 6

Drifter leaned against the wall by the classroom door. Beacon's classes for the semester were underway, and Glynda had invited him to sit in on a combat class so he could learn the students' strength better.

He had collected plenty of data from the recordings of initiation. However, he wanted to investigate their combat class as well. Individual combat against other people differed from team combat against Grimm, after all. He looked forward to seeing the students fight.

Nothing killed a Guardian faster than another Guardian. He wondered if that applied to Huntsmen as well.

Students trickled in and the room began to fill. Drifter scanned their faces, picking out familiar ones. Four girls in distinctive colors entered, chatting amongst themselves.

"Miss Xiao Long, good to see you again," he called out with a grin.

Hearing her name, Yang turned and abruptly stopped as she made eye contact with Drifter.

"Oh my gosh, you really are here," she said, wide-eyed.

"You know him?" Ruby whispered.

Yang looked away, glancing at the ground.

"It's, uh, a long story," she muttered.

He waved her on. "Don't worry about it now, come talk to me later."

She gave an awkward nod and went to find a seat, her confused teammates following close behind.

* * *

Drifter stuck to the back as he watched as Glynda ran the class with the same strict demeanor she always had.

The fights between students progressed. Some were exciting, others were one-sided beat downs. He, or rather, his Ghost took notes of the different weapons and Semblances visible. The Aura tracking technology was interesting. Guardians used something similar through their Ghosts, but it was impressive that the people of Remnant had developed something similar all on their own.

From his observations, Drifter could estimate the power and limitations of Aura and Semblance. It was undoubtedly a paracausal power—similar to the Light, Dark, and magic—however it lacked the potency. Much like how the Grimm were reminiscent of the Darkness, but nowhere near as potent, so too was Aura like a diluted, foreign Light.

Despite knowing Aura's capabilities, he remained ignorant of its origin. Once he resolved all immediate concerns, Drifter planned to research Remnant's origin stories. The fairy tales he'd found were intriguing, yet too vague for him to draw any conclusions just yet.

Halfway through the class, Glynda called Yang up to fight. As expected, she maintained a fast and brutal style that made quick work of her weaker opponent. The fight ended without her even activating her Semblance.

After a few more fights, Glynda announced the end of class.

While disappointed that he didn't get to see Pyrrha in action, Drifter was overall pleased with what he had seen. The students were fast and struck with power. They lacked intent behind their blows, but he expected that, given their lack of experience. With some training, they could become formidable fighters.

When there wasn't a large skill gap present, the fights went on for quite a long time. Drifter recognized that would be good for Gambit. Since the students couldn't safely kill each other—an odd phrase, for sure—he would have to tweak the invasion mechanic. If he applied their Aura-tracking technology, he could tie the success of an invasion to the percent of Aura depleted, rather than the number of opponents killed.

Drifter watched as students shuffled out the door. He saw Yang saying something to her teammates before hurrying over to him.

"About the other night, I am so sorry—"

"Hey," Drifter interrupted, "don't worry about it, sister. I won't tell."

She breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Professor, I wasn't thinking straight."

"Water under the bridge," he reassured her. "That's not why I wanted to talk to you."

"What is it then?" Yang asked curiously.

"Your fight at The Club was good work," Drifter told her. He motioned back at the classroom: "Same thing with your fight in there. You've got potential to be a real warrior."

"Thank you," she replied, looking abashed by the sudden praise.

Drifter thumbed a coin. "This isn't official for another week or so, so do me a favor and keep quiet about it, all right?"

She nodded.

"Soon you'll be testing a little game of mine, called Gambit. It'll put you and your team against another team, with some Grimm for good measure.

"Sounds like a fun time," she said with an honest smile.

Drifter nodded. "It is, but Gambit's also a tough game. Like I said though, I think you've got what it takes to excel."

"So, what should I do?"

He shot her a grin. "Nothing yet, just be ready."

The two parted ways. Drifter lingered by the door for a few minutes longer, waiting to catch Glynda on the way out. She stepped out, and he waited for her to finish locking the door before approaching.

"Hey, Glynda, nice class in there."

"Thank you, I hope it was helpful."

Drifter nodded. "I got a good idea of their skill now. Gambit'll be ready to go in a week."

"Mind if we walk? I have a meeting with Ozpin," she asked. He agreed, and the two began heading towards Ozpin's tower.

"So," Glynda continued, "we will introduce you next week and observe your exhibition game. Gambit is not yet a part of our curriculum, we will determine its status based on what we see."

"I get it," Drifter replied with a dismissive wave. "It'll be smooth sailing, I promise."

"I expect so. Speaking of, have you given any thought as to who the teams shall be?"

"I have, I'm thinking RWBY against JNPR."

Glynda hummed. "Yes, a sensible choice. They have shown themselves to be among the top of the first year teams."

"Glad you agree."

She turned to him. "I do want to review Gambit before the first match. Let's schedule a meeting beforehand—I want you to walk me through every step. I will not risk students being harmed."

He raised his hands placatingly. "Don't worry sister, it's safe. One-hundred percent Drifter guaranteed. But, if you want to inspect it, I'm happy to oblige."

Glynda nodded sharply. With the discussion finished, the two said brief goodbyes and parted ways.

Next stop, Pyrrha Nikos.

According to his Scroll, which displayed the students' schedules, she was free for the rest of the day. This left Drifter with no choice but to wander around Beacon looking for her. He walked aimlessly around the campus, trying to stay near common buildings like the cafeteria and library. While he did so, he flipped a coin idly and let his thoughts wander to the future.

Things had been progressing smoothly. Soon, Gambit would be running at Beacon and he would have a steady supply of Motes. That was a critical step, because he needed a lot of them for his plans.

Drifter hoped he could use Junior and his contacts to identify threats to his ultimate goal. So far, all his research implied Ozpin, Torchwick, and the White Fang were the biggest players in Vale. Mistral and Vacuo were small enough to ignore; while Atlas was a different beast altogether.

Still, there was much mystery surrounding the relationship between Torchwick and the White Fang. It seemed no one understood the partnership between the two, nor the reasoning behind the massive amount of Dust theft, as none of the stolen goods ever turned up elsewhere.

An infamous thief and a terrorist group working together to stockpile massive amounts of Dust undoubtedly pointed to something more nefarious.

He just needed to know who.

A buzzing caught his attention—his Scroll. Drifter quickly walked behind a nearby building, making sure no one was around before he answered the call.

"Hey Junior," he greeted.

"Hey Wu, listen, Roman's here asking for you. Wants to get in contact with you ASAP," Junior explained. "He, uh, he doesn't look happy right now, so if you could get down here before he starts blowing holes in the wall…"

"I get it brother, I'll be at The Club in thirty. Tell him to wait for me, all right?"

"Will do, thanks Wu," Junior said.

* * *

"He's in the back hall," Junior said as he led Drifter through The Club. "You good going in alone? I'm sure you can handle yourself but he seems pretty pissed and his cane is a grenade launcher—you know that right?"

"Hah, now I do," Drifter replied. "Don't worry, I'll be fine. Just, uh, don't come inside. Even if you hear weird noises."

Junior turned and raised an eyebrow.

"Especially if you here weird noises," Drifter added.

The other man shook his head. "I don't even want to know. Don't die, and don't destroy my building," he said as he opened the door. "Good luck."

Drifter stepped through the door which led to a dark side room. Torchwick had been pacing back and forth a few feet away, but stopped and looked up as he entered.

"You're the guy?" Torchwick asked.

"That'd be me," Drifter said, spreading his arms with a smile.

"All right then, listen up," he announced. "Junior told me you're new in town, so I'll give you a one-time pass on this."

Torchwick raised his cane and pressed it against Drifter's chest. "I run this town, and every bit of Dust here belongs to me. Every. Single. Speck." He pushed harder with each word. "So don't think you can take what's mine, and don't think I'll play your games."

"Worked, didn't it?" Drifter said with a laugh.

Outwardly, he was calm and collected. With the cane against his chest, though, he felt his ancient heartbeat quicken. His breathing sharpened, and his fingers yearned to grab his own gun. He hated being threatened with violence. It brought back memories of the Dark Ages, of all the death and suffering—both of others, and his own.

His Ghost could resurrect him, but he never relied on it. His own survival was all that mattered. Guardians did not fear death, they forgot mortality and humanity—and many foolishly died trying to push their luck. Ghosts were powerful, but they had limits, and there were many foes who knew just what those limits were.

"Cocky bastard, this is a courtesy," Torchwick replied. "Try something like this again and I'll put you down. Now, hand over what you got."

"Hah! Hate to break it to you, brother, but I lied. I don't have any." He raised his empty hands and waggled his fingers for emphasis.

Torchwick grit his teeth. "You're trying my patience, I know you sold some Dust back to that shop."

"Didn't take it from you, I got it from somewhere else."

"Where?"

"Secret."

"You son of a—," Torchwick growled and clicked a button on his cane. A sight flipped up. "Talk."

Drifter tilted his head. "Heh, you're passionate about your Dust. Afraid of letting the Fang down?"

"Huh? I don't care about those animals."

"You sure like to work with 'em."

Torchwick's eyes narrowed.

"I get you, Roman," Drifter continued. "One last question—who's your boss?"

"All right, I've had enough." Torchwick shoved Drifter back with his cane. "Heard Hei just fixed this place up, too bad he'll be scrubbing you off the walls."

Drifter pointed with his right hand.

Confusion flashed across Torchwick's face. "What?"

"Behind you."

A portal howled into existence behind Torchwick. He whipped around at the sound to see a massive figure dropping from the portal.

"What?!" he shouted, instinctively stepping away.

Drifter smirked as he saw the fearsome Taken Captain emerge.

The Taken Captain was once a high-ranking pirate of the Eliksni species, now corrupted by the darkness. It stood at an imposing six and a half feet tall, with four arms and two legs. Like most Taken, its body was a gradient of color, from blue-white at the bottom to black at the top, and it had a single, glowing white eye at the center of its head. Its top two arms carried razor-sharp blades that arced with electricity.

Torchwick didn't have a chance to react before the Taken slammed its arms into him with a roar, sending the man flying past Drifter and into the far wall. He grunted on impact and fell forward on his face.

Drifter ducked away as the Taken passed him and moved towards its victim.

Torchwick struggled to his feet, trying to aim his cane at the Taken Captain. The monster gave him no opportunity to fight back. It charged a wispy black orb in its right arms and hurtled it at the man.

The orb slammed into Torchwick with a ghostly sizzle. He fell to the ground, crying out in pain. The wispy black energy left erratic burns and scorch marks across his clothing and skin.

Drifter quietly unsummoned the Taken Captain and looked at Torchwick. "First time's always the toughest. Hang in there, brother. Can't have you dying on me."

Torchwick was on his hands and knees, blindly fumbling around and groaning in agony.

Being hit by a blast from a Taken Captain was unpleasant. Side effects included temporary blindness, severe burns, pain, and an inability to use Light for a short duration.

Drifter had reasoned this so-called Taken Burn would disrupt Aura just like it would Light. He could confirm that theory, thanks to Torchwick's assistance.

He squatted down next to Torchwick, who was recovering, and pulled Thorn out from his waistband, gently holding the barrel to the man's head.

"Now then," he began, "let's talk about that boss of yours."

"I-I don't," Torchwick gasped, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"C'mon, it ain't hard to see there's someone sticking you with the Fang."

"They just pay well."

"I doubt even they could afford all of a city's Dust."

Torchwick coughed and tried to scrabble to his feet, but Drifter shoved him to the floor again.

"Take it easy, hotshot. We got time."

* * *

"Uh, Boss?"

Junior looked up from cleaning a glass. "Hm?"

"Should we check out that noise?"

"What noise?"

"That screaming and banging in the back room."

"All I hear is the sound of us just now finishing repairs. Repairs that'd be undone if we let an angry Torchwick run around."

"You really don't hear the—oh…" the henchman trailed off.

Junior gave him a knowing nod, and the man shrugged and walked back to his post.

"Wu, you better not leave a mess," Junior muttered.

* * *

Drifter sat in his room that night, playing with a coin.

While Torchwick had yielded little useful information, he'd encouraged the man to find out more and call him when he did. Drifter now knew the man had a boss, one that could control both him and the White Fang. He would identify them and deal with them appropriately.

Gambit would start soon, and with it would come fresh Motes. It was power—his power. He could scrape together a new crew and store enough Motes so that nothing in Remnant would threaten him. Not petty criminals, not terrorists, and certainly not skulking schemers. It would keep individuals like Opzin in check and carry enough power to dissuade even Atlas from interfering with him.

He survived the war between the Light and Dark, and he intended to survive on Remnant as well.

The situation in Remnant reminded him of Earth—humanity restricted to small enclaves, surrounded by monsters. Guardians and Huntsmen, wielding powers supposedly meant to protect.

On Earth, violence filled the peoples' lives until their final breath. The power of the Light only created more conflict and prolonged human suffering. Drifter himself realized the foolishness of trying to be a savior of the people long ago. No matter how hard he tried, people always died in the end.

By now, the heroes of Earth had likely perished. He'd offered the few Guardians he liked a chance at Salvation, but they rejected it. He respected their devotion, for it was their belief and purpose. Everyone had a code. His was to survive, it always was.

Huntsmen and Huntresses were analogous to Guardians, but they had not forgotten mortality. They clung to to their lives with the passion only a mortal man could exhibit, and they valued the average citizen as well.

Perhaps there was still hope for this world.

* * *

**ANs:**

Hi all, thanks for all the positive support criticism!

1\. _"If The Drifter still doing Gambit matches, wouldn't that bring the attention of the Nine to Remnant?"_

Since the Nine are the consciousnesses of the planets of the Solar System in Destiny, they have no power in Remnant.

2\. _"It's a bit weird seeing Drifter not react much to the superhuman strengths of Remnant natives without Light. Will Drifter explore the nature of aura and other impossible physics in this universe?"_

Yes, and the lack of reaction is because Aura falls under what Destiny calls "Paracausal powers," i.e. anything that breaks physics. So Light, Darkness, magic, wish-granting, etc. all fall under that category.

3\. _"I'm kind of surprised Drifter had nothing to say on Ruby's little 'ride a Nevermore to get unlost' plan."_

He probably did! I just glossed over a lot of initiation because I figured most people have already seen read it a dozen times.

4\. _"Great stuff as always but i wonder, in-game and canon destiny the drifter gave rewards after gambit matches and allowed guardians to create gambit based armour sets that gave them gambit power ups, will we be seeing this in the story"_

Drifter may have some rewards for those who help him.

5\. _"__Speaking of Gambit will Drifter run the illegal version of gambit in remnant?"_

Depends on if he stays with Beacon. An underground variant would require scrounging up strong Aura-unlocked fighters who don't mind working together, however it would also lack scrutiny.


	7. Chapter 7

Despite the lazy clouds and weak breeze, tension hung in the air.

It was time for Gambit, and for Drifter to solidify the first crucial step. Ozpin and Glynda were watching. He couldn't see them, but he felt their judging eyes. Any mistake here would make for later obstacles.

He kept the rules safe for this one: no blockers, one invasion.

"All right, mavericks, welcome to Gambit Light. You all ready?"

A chorus of affirmation came through the speakers. Drifter grinned.

"Grimm, at the trees!" he shouted into the microphone.

The report of Dust-rounds and howl of monsters in the distance broke the forest's quiet. Drifter watched the fighting on his Scroll. He called out as needed, and each word passed on through the earpieces he'd given the students.

Meanwhile, his Ghost managed the flow of Grimm. It activated the transmat once more, sending additional Grimm to reinforce their fellows.

The mass of Beowolves and Ursas appearing in the woods didn't slow either team. In their respective arenas, RWBY and JNPR ran to engage the monsters.

* * *

More Grimm flashed into existence before her. Yang leapt towards them with a yell, crashing into the group in a whirlwind of thunderous punches and explosions. From the fading body of the Grimm shone small, bright pyramids—Motes, she recognized.

She knelt down and gave one an experimental poke. "So we just pick these up?"

Beside her, Blake turned to look at it. "I think so," she answered.

Yang moved to grab it, but it disappeared in a flash of red.

"I'll get these, keep fighting!" Ruby called out from ahead of them.

Yang laughed. Ruby's Semblance would make collecting the Motes and returning them to the bank a breeze!

"Grimm at the cliffs!" they heard Drifter call.

She turned to Blake, and they exchanged a nod. "Let's go."

"Hey, you two, hop on!"

Weiss had created several glyphs. Without hesitation, Yang ran to one and let it propel her across the arena.

"Thanks, Ice Queen!" she shouted back.

"Stop calling me that!"

Team RWBY fought back the Grimm in each area. With each wave, their teamwork grew stronger. Ruby used her speed to dart around the arena, gathering Motes and defeating any stray Grimm. The other three engaged the biggest groups of Grimm with the help of Weiss's glyphs.

Steadily, the Bank began to fill.

* * *

Drifter smiled as he watched RWBY. They adapted to Gambit quickly, and their lead over JNPR was growing. Within minutes they would be at fifty Motes, the number required for the invasion. At seventy-five, they'd pull the boss.

JNPR fought well, but they lacked the speed offered by Ruby and Weiss. Despite their best efforts, time burned as they ran between the fight and the Bank.

* * *

The few Motes Yang had picked up compressed themselves in her hand. With a grunt, she slammed them into the Bank. The white flames within seemed to burn with excitement.

She heard Drifter's voice: _"Portal's up, go say hello." _

The circular metal frame next to the Bank erupted with energy. In the center, a swirling black sphere formed, crackling with unknown energy.

Yang's hands trembled in anticipation. She felt the energy radiating from the portal—it called to her.

"Go, Yang. We can handle the Grimm," Weiss said from somewhere.

"Good luck!" she heard her sister shout.

Yang nodded mutely, not turning away. Step by step, she approached the portal and reached out an arm, slowly reaching toward the dark sphere as if it would lash out at any moment.

She touched it, and the world fell apart and reformed before her eyes with an electric whoosh. The vertigo passed as quickly as it came, replaced by sheer adrenaline.

Yang landed in the other arena, by their cliffs. She did not see the cliffs behind her, nor the Grimm in the distance. Blood roaring in her ears, she only saw four targets.

Team JNPR ceased to exist. She was a Huntress; they were her prey.

Surroundings became a blur as Yang shot forwards. Someone yelled. A warning? A threat? She did not know.

Yang's fist carried her momentum into Jaune. He cried out as the punch sent him flying into a tree. There was no time to relax, however. She felt two others behind her. With a quick turn, a volley of her own punches met Ren and Nora's attacks. The two fought in sync, dividing Yang's attention and attacking her blind spots relentlessly.

Yang did not withdraw. They could try if they wanted, but they were nothing.

A hammer caught her chest, sending her stumbling backwards into a thrown javelin. Both attacks struck with force, but Yang remained standing. Her Aura would protect her.

Her Aura felt stronger, too. Even without her Semblance active, it was a raging inferno that dwarfed anything JNPR could bring to bear. Forget Pyrrha, there was a new invincible girl.

A flurry of strikes punctuated with a sharp kick sent Nora out of the fight. Yang pushed her attack on Ren, who steadily lost ground. Offense forgotten, he struggled to maintain his defense, one that threatened to shatter with every strike.

Yang threw one more punch to finish him, but a bronze shield interrupted her.

Pyrrha rushed to her teammate's aid, and together they renewed their assault on Yang. She could feel cuts and bullets slip past her defense, chipping away at her Aura. It mattered not. Their attacks were insect bites compared to the resilience she felt.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jaune and Nora reentering the fight. Yang tried to push her attack, but the four of them rebuffed it. Pyrrha's strikes were rapid, and her defense impenetrable. Nora's hammer rained down thunderous blows. Ren exploited any gaps in her defense. Jaune shielded his allies from many of Yang's attacks.

Yang kicked off Jaune's shield to gain distance. The four maintained their position, cautious and ready for her next move.

She inhaled, feeling the power stored within her, and allowed it to erupt. Lilac eyes flashed red and blonde hair turned to flame.

This power, it would be enough to stop them.

She would defeat them.

She would kill them.

Yang's eyes widened. Where had that last thought come from?

There was no time to think—her opponents were approaching.

_"Ten seconds left." _

The fight resumed. Yang rushed them with a shout, every one of her strikes unleashing a tremendous amount force. Despite most being blocked, the power in the explosions chipped away at JNPR's Aura. With time running out, she abandoned defense.

Yang landed a solid blow on Nora, before being thrown back by Pyrrha. Before she could react, the world distorted, and she was back in her arena.

"Welcome back!" Ruby shouted as she sped past with an armful of Motes.

Yang looked around for the Grimm, ready to rejoin the fight. She had not returned unscathed, but she had enough Aura left to make it through the rest of the game.

She held a hand in front of her face and watched it tremble slightly. The power from before vanished, and her mind felt clear, lacking the ferocity that had overwhelmed her.

"What was that?" she muttered.

* * *

"Woo! Your invader's back, good work," Drifter announced.

With Yang's invasion, the gap between RWBY and JNPR widened further. JNPR tried to fight her as a team which allowed her to stall their progress towards filling the Bank for the entire invasion period. They also had to contest with the swollen Grimm population, which had gone unchecked during their fight.

JNPR's setbacks piled up, but there was still a chance. Their strategy shifted, and now Pyrrha was rapidly collecting Motes from a distance. Somehow, she was drawing them in towards her. Drifter stroked his chin in thought—her Semblance, perhaps?

The students continued to cut through the Grimm. His Ghost began moving in some tougher Beowolves and Ursas they'd captured. Drifter frowned. Even these hardly hindered the students' progress. He'd have to find better Grimm for them to fight. Tougher Grimm would have more Motes, too. It'd take time to capture all of them, though.

Where was a Cabal troop transport when you needed one?

Not that he'd ever try bringing those aliens to Remnant He didn't know if the Cabal Empire had any contact with this region of space, but he wasn't willing to try. Those military-obsessed space rhinos would try to subjugate Remnant with an armada and bring with them a galaxy's worth of trouble.

RWBY finished another wave of Grimm, and their counter topped out.

"Bank those Motes and summon a Primeval!"

The four girls rushed to their Bank. Drifter smirked and flipped a coin in his hand.

"Ready to send it?" he asked his Ghost. His companion did not reply, but he felt its affirmation.

With seventy-five Motes in the Bank, it flared brightly and folded up, returning to its compact disk-shape. The telltale roar of a Taken portal erupted in their arena. This one dwarfed the rest, though. Errant energy sparked in the air and the girls stumbled away from the portal.

From the portal came a floating sphere. A segmented, metal sphere covered in patches of bulbous flesh protruding from it. Dark, translucent tentacles surrounded the gaping, fang-filled maw in the center.

A Taken Chimera. Once a machine, now a semi-organic monstrosity.

Drifter swore. The coin he'd been flipping tumbled to the ground, forgotten. His hand twitched closer to the grip of the hand cannon at his waist. The lesser Grimm might not be a real threat to the students, but a real Taken Primeval would kill them if they weren't careful.

"That's not supposed to happen," he hissed to his Ghost. "They were supposed to get a small Taken!"

Its red eye stared back.

"Error with the equipment, you think?" he muttered. "I'll check it later."

Drifter took a breath and rolled his shoulders. The kids were in a tough spot, and the upcoming invasion from JNPR wouldn't help matters. Neither intervening nor cancelling JNPR's side of things was an option, though. Any action on his part would alert Ozpin to something being wrong. If that happened, he'd be lucky to get Gambit running at any Hunter institution, let alone Beacon.

All he could do was wait and hope RWBY could handle a Primeval. If one of them died, he'd just have to run.

Maybe Junior would let him run mini-Gambit in his basement.

* * *

"What is that thing?!" Weiss sputtered.

Ruby grimaced. "That's one ugly Grimm."

"Is that even Grimm?" Blake asked.

"Who cares! Let's take it down," Yang said, slamming her fists together.

The purple maw of the beast glowed and unleashed a blast of energy. The four scattered, leaping to get clear before returning fire with their own weapons.

Their shots scratched the metallic shell and ripped small chunks from its flesh, but it continued to float towards them.

"Aim for the mouth!" they heard Drifter call.

Readjusting their fire had an immediate effect. The monster howled and its tentacles lashed erratically in every direction. It fired off another blast before turning away, protecting its center.

Yang grit her teeth as the blast passed near her. Even without it making contact, she could feel it eat away at her Aura.

"Don't let it hit you!" she yelled.

Weiss gave her a flat look. "I'll try."

Yang rolled her eyes and turned to Weiss and Blake. "Just watching out for you, Ice—crap, Ruby!"

They dodged away from the blast in different directions, and the Primeval had pushed into the gap. Now, Ruby was across from them, separated by the monster.

It was facing only her now, pursuing the girl as she jumped and fired shots at it, using the recoil to gain space.

Blake and Weiss opened fire, trying to get its attention. Yang charged it directly. Her blow landed squarely on the back of the Primeval's shell. It shuddered and roared from the impact. For a moment, she thought it would fall. Then, a tentacle lashed out and struck the side of her head with a crack. The blow sent Yang into the ground, leaving a small crater from the impact.

"Go help Ruby, I'll check on Yang," Blake told Weiss. The girl nodded and flew off with a glyph.

Blake rushed to her fallen partner. "Are you all right?" She grabbed Yang's shoulders and helped her sit up. A trickle of blood flowed down the side of the girl's head. "You're bleeding, your Aura must be low."

"Ugh," Yang groaned. "That thing hits like a Bullhead."

She tried to stand, but Blake pushed her down. "Stay here and rest, I need to go help the others."

Blake began to move, but Yang grabbed her arm. "No, I can still fight!"

"Yang, your Aura—"

"I don't care, we have to help them!"

Blake's eyes flicked to the battle. Despite its lumbering appearance, the Primeval moved deceptively fast. Its positioning and attacks kept Weiss and Ruby from being able to flank it.

Ruby dodged the blasts it fired, but each one was a closer miss than the last. She was pinned at the cliffs now, and there was no space left to retreat.

"Use your Semblance to get past it!" they heard Weiss shout.

"I can't, it—" Ruby cut off as she ducked away from another blast. "I can't get around the tendrils!"

"We have to move," Yang urged.

Blake turned her attention back to her partner. "Let's go, but keep your distance," she said, helping Yang stand.

Yang took a few steps and stumbled, hissing in pain. "Go on, I'll catch up."

With a reluctant nod, Blake ran to help her teammates.

On the other side of the arena, Ruby was struggling to evade the Primeval's attacks. Despite its bestial appearance, it had enough sense to separate her and drive her towards the cliffs. Now, with massive rocks cluttering the area, it was too late to sprint past it. Taking her attention away from it for even a second would leave her open to attack.

Verticality wasn't an option either, it was too tall for her to jump over. Even with the help of Crescent Rose, Ruby doubted she could go high enough to clear the monster and its tentacles. If a single hit from them could injure Yang, she would be lucky just to survive them.

_"Invader inbound!" _

Invader? Ruby glanced around. Sure enough, a portal opened near her, and a figure strode out.

"Oh, hi Pyrrha!"

* * *

On her teammates' urging, Pyrrha invaded RWBY's side. Finding out her Semblance could draw in Motes remotely had sped up their collection, but it still wasn't enough. She needed to stall RWBY long enough for her team to catch up.

The moment she entered, Pyrrha was almost overwhelmed by exhilaration. A deep, burning desire to fight rose deep within her. Her knuckles whitened on Miló, her javelin. How long had it been since she'd experienced a real fight? Her grip relaxed. This would be her victory.

Before her stood Ruby, mouth moving but words inaudible. Her guard was down, scythe held low and away. Mistake. Pyrrha dashed forwards in an instant and struck Ruby with her weapon. Aura halted the point, but the force behind the blow sent the girl tumbling away.

Pyrrha looked to the side, feeling her other three targets closing. Blake and Weiss were competent, perhaps even a challenge together, but she would defeat them. Yang wouldn't be a threat for much longer.

Miló transformed into its rifle form and Pyrrha took aim, ducking to the side to get a clear line between the Primeval and her target. It was strange, really, that such a monstrous creature stood before her, but she sensed no danger from it. They were comrades seeking the same prey.

Her crosshair lined up on the limping Yang. She sneered, feeling the pathetic flicker of Aura left in her target. It'd only take one shot.

Miló barked and seconds later, Yang stumbled backwards before disappearing in a flash of white.

_"Aura's in the red, Yang Xiao Long is out!"_

Saved by the rules, she supposed. It'd have only taken one more shot to kill Yang. It would have been so easy.

Pyrrha stumbled—what was she thinking? Yang was a friend, this was only a game, she reminded herself.

An attack from Weiss cut her thoughts short. She brought Akoúo, her shield, around to block the wave of dust-charged energy while her rifle returned to its javelin form.

Sprinting past the Primeval, she clashed with Weiss. They fought on evenly for a moment, exchanging strikes and parries. Then Pyrrha had her opening. Her Semblance activated, pulling the rapier aside ever so slightly and causing Weiss to overextend. Pyrrha spun, setting Weiss's weapon aside with her shield, and her spear shot out. The impact was solid and knocked the other girl backwards.

Pyrrha jumped back as a hail of bullets clattered against her shield. Blake was on her in an instant, a blur of speed and precision. Miló turned into its sword form and Pyrrha met the attacks.

She was the superior fighter, but Blake was evasive. Pyrrha struck shadow clones down, only to be met with attacks from the other side. She maintained a strong defense, and her Aura reserves still felt greater than ever been. Blake's Aura was weak, Pyrrha knew. She just needed to land hits.

Her eyes narrowed. There was a pattern here. Pyrrha kicked through a clone and let herself spin, throwing her shield behind her.

There!

Akoúo slammed into Blake's face, bouncing off her Aura and back to Pyrrha's hand. The blow sent Blake tumbling backwards. The girl regained her senses, and she flipped gracefully through the air. Landing on her feet, Blake looked to the side before throwing her weapon. It caught a tree, and she pulled the ribbon, leaping away from Pyrrha.

Pyrrha gave chase while her opponent continued to jump and flip away. She fired a few shots, but none found their target. Blake was inside the forest now, soaring between the trees and obscuring the line of sight. Trees splintered as Pyrrha smashed through them, adopting a direct approach.

She passed through another tree. Suddenly, from above, Blake launched herself at Pyrrha. She caught the attack with her shield and kicked away, swiping with her sword but only catching a shadow clone. Blake had already retreated into the trees.

Pyrrha growled—Blake was weak, they both knew it. If only she would accept her fate, instead of wasting her time!

_"Ten seconds left." _

Explosions and gunfire sounded in the distance. Pyrrha swore—she'd wasted too much time running after Blake, while Ruby and Weiss fought the Primeval. If it died, they would lose.

Blake knew this, if her smirk was anything to go by.

Pyrrha threw her javelin, then her shield. Both crashed into Blake, and Pyrrha rushed. She grappled the stunned girl, twisting and slamming her into the ground. Miló and Akoúo returned to her hands, and she plunged her spear downwards into Blake.

It nearly hit, but then there was a flash of white and Pyrrha was back in JNPR's arena.

She blinked. It was like waking from a dream. The haze in her mind vanished, replaced with clarity. What happened? Her legs felt weak, she sat on the ground heavily.

"Pyrrha, are you all right?" she heard Jaune ask.

"Y-Yes, I'm fine. I just need a moment."

* * *

Drifter nodded his head as the invasion finished. Both Yang and Pyrrha had performed well enough, and they certainly had potential to be greater. The Primeval Chimera was nearly dead, and at the rate the three remaining members of RWBY were going, the game would be over before JNPR summoned theirs.

Ordinarily, JNPR would get another invasion as a chance to catch up. However, Drifter wanted the game done as soon as possible, so nothing else could go wrong. He'd quietly spent a few Motes to weaken the Chimera, making RWBY's job much easier. Chimeras were nasty beasts, ones that could kill Guardians, and he did not want to take a chance.

Ruby, Weiss, and Blake maintained a barrage on the Chimera. It howled in protest and fired energy blasts at the girls, but they continued to dodge. Chimeras had power, but lacked speed, and the students easily exploited this weakness with their speed and agility.

Another wave of Dust rounds and energy hammered it and the cracks lining its shell spread suddenly, glowing gold. It rose into the air, roaring with fury before its body began to dissipate. Then, it folded on itself into a single point of light and vanished suddenly.

"Primeval's down, good work. Game's over kids, head back to the cliffs," Drifter announced.

He sighed and relaxed his shoulders. "Close one, huh?" he asked his Ghost. "We'd better check the gear tomorrow and make sure another Primeval doesn't show."

The Ghost floated back to Drifter's hand and disappeared back to storage.

"Let's go see what they thought. Hope Ozpin's happy."

Drifter walked back to the staging area between the arenas, where the eight students were waiting. RWBY was celebrating amongst themselves and chatting with JNPR. Ruby was waving her arms around, recounting the fight against the Primeval to Nora and Jaune.

Pyrrha and Yang stood with their teammates. Their faces wore smiles but uncertainty filled their eyes.

Drifter would talk to them later. The first time was a frightening thing for most people. After all, to invade in Gambit was to infuse yourself with Taken energy. It was a temporary infusion, but in that time the invader felt boundless power and ruthlessness. They became more monster than man.

The pair didn't know that, however. They probably thought they'd lost control and allowed the heat of battle to cloud their senses. That was fine—the less they suspected, the better. He would dissuade their fears and they'd come around. They always did.

"All right," Drifter said, clapping his hands together. "Good work out there kids, you made this first run a success. Hope you liked it."

The students nodded, murmuring their agreement.

"It was a fine test of fighting ability and teamwork," Weiss spoke up.

"Too bad we couldn't get our Primeval," Jaune muttered.

"Don't worry about it," Drifter reassured him. "JNPR did a fine job, your just didn't get the Motes as fast. Next time, I'm sure you'll have something."

Ruby waved her hand. "Ooh, Mr. Drifter, what was that thing anyway?"

"Just Drifter, please," he said with a laugh. "And that was a Primeval. A Chimera, to be exact."

"A Grimm?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Not exactly, but close. They're ancient monsters of Dark, and very rare."

She bounced up and down. "Did you hear that, Weiss? We killed a super rare monster!"

Weiss sighed. "Yes, Ruby, I'm right here—"

"Team RWBY will defeat them all!" Ruby exclaimed with a fist pump.

"So, how'd you do that thing?" Yang cut in. "When my Aura was low, I just teleported back here."

"Good question," Drifter responded. "Portals. You entered a portal to get to the arenas. When your Aura hit red, I just reversed it. Same thing when you invaded."

"Right…" Yang trailed off and her eyes flicked to the ground at the mention of the invasion.

While the Taken portal played a part, the main form of teleportation was a simple transmat. In a transmat, matter was converted to a digital form and beamed to the destination where it re-formed. He wanted to keep that a secret, however, because despite its common usage on Earth, Remnant had no such technology.

"Works with my Semblance," Drifter threw in. "That's all I'll say though, can't give away all my secrets just yet," he said with a grin. "Well, that's all I got for you today. Honestly, I usually pay out rewards for participation in Gambit, but Ozpin said 'education should be its own reward,' so, sorry about that."

They groaned at that remark and headed back up the cliffs to Beacon.

Things had gone well, Drifter decided.

* * *

After the game, Drifter reported back to Ozpin's office. The headmaster sat behind his desk while Glynda stood to the side.

"That was quite interesting," Ozpin said.

"In a good way, I hope?"

He nodded. "Your case for it being a good teaching tool had merit. RWBY and JNPR had to work together and adapt as they went along."

"I must admit, it could be a very good experience for the students," Glynda added.

Ozpin leaned forward on his desk, clasping his hands. "Those benefits are secondary, however. Tell me, how are the Motes our students collected?"

"Good, good," Drifter replied, summoning one in his hand. "Got a nice little stock, enough to experiment with them. I've got an idea too, on how we could use 'em."

"Go on."

"These things come from Grimm, right? If they've got the same kind of energy, a concentrated number of them might mask anything, or anyone, in the area…"

"Thus concealing the presence of people," Ozpin finished. "A promising idea."

Glynda nodded. "That would be very beneficial, and offer much change. I hope you can make this work."

"I hope so too, I'll start work on it tomorrow," Drifter said.

"One last thing—at the end, that Primeval—was that one of the mysterious monsters too?" Ozpin asked.

"Yep. They come in all different shapes and sizes."

"Much larger than the one you showed us," the headmaster noted.

Drifter shrugged. "That's about as big as they come, so I wouldn't worry about them. They're scarce, and as you saw, a few first-year Huntresses can take one down with little trouble."

"I thought you said they only attack Grimm?" Glynda asked pointedly.

"Ordinarily they do," Drifter explained. "You can convince them to go after other targets, though. It's part of the game."

Ozpin hummed. "You have kept a handle on them so far, and they do not seem to present any extraordinary threat. Still, I will ask you to not use them for anything other than research and Gambit. We know little about them."

"Will do," Drifter replied. "Once I have more Motes, it'll be easier to summon them. We can learn more then and see how they do against the Grimm."

"Good, I look forward to seeing your results. Anything to add, Glynda?"

She shook her head. "No, sir."

Ozpin stood and extended a hand. Drifter shook it.

"You've brought us many new possibilities. If they bear fruit, we may even push back the Grimm."

"That's what I'm hoping for, brother. Our Salvation."

Drifter wasn't lying. Power over the Grimm was more power for him. Dark forces may have been at play in Remnant, but he would overcome them.

He resisted the urge to laugh. He'd survived worse—the Grimm and thugs of Remnant were child's play.

Salvation. The word tickled his tongue.

He was so close now. Leaving the Solar System freed him from the war between the Light and the Darkness. Once he had enough Motes and guns in his crew, nothing on Remnant could challenge him.

* * *

**ANs:**

Thanks for all the support, everyone! This story has gotten more popular than I ever thought it would, and I hope I can continue to please.

**Questions & Comments**

**1\. "****When drifter starts getting his crew will people like roman and neo be offered a place in it I feel like they are people who will do anything to survive just like him?"  
**

It's a possibility, if he believes they can help him.

**2\. "Will drifter help team RWBY till volume 7 and will Salem see him like a threat ?"**

Salem has spent centuries fighting Ozma. Unless overt, new threats might escape her notice for some time... As for helping RWBY, it's possible, however Drifter is always on a team of his own.

**3.** **"Magic is not paracausal power because paracausality..."**

A good point! Do Semblances and magic, etc. go against cause-consequence? I can see arguments for both sides, however that's beyond the scope of this work. Perhaps it would be better if I said they will be lumped under "funky space stuff" to make things simpler :)

**4\. "Let it be said right here and now, I have had the Gambit OST ready the whole time..."**

Haha, it's what I often listen to as I write!

**5\. "Will Drifter replicate more of the technology back home? Like ships, redjacks, perhaps even some Vex and Fallen technology."**

Some of that is outside his expertise, however Drifter will certainly never stop improving his tech.


	8. Chapter 8

Leaves crunched underfoot as Drifter walked through the Emerald Forest. He whistled a gentle tune, but his careful eyes scanned the surrounding brush. His Ghost hovered by his head, helping keep watch.

Ahead, red eyes shined from the shadows of a bush. He grinned and raised a hand, pulling out a Mote. This one would do nicely.

"Come on out, boy, I got a treat for you," he called out.

Branches rustled and snapped as the snarling Beowolf emerged. Its black, bony body tensed and its eyes promised malice. It did not move, perhaps waiting for its pack mates, or perhaps waiting for an opening.

Drifter slowly approached it. He held out the Mote, feeling its power and channeling it within him. His arm trembled—this was something he'd never dared try back home. Despite the risk, he knew the potential was worth it. This weak Grimm would make a perfect subject.

"Nasty forest, isn't it? Let me Take you away from here," Drifter called out to it.

Wisps of energy stretched out to the Beowolf. It snarled and stumbled backwards. He was almost there.

"Damn!" Drifter swore as the connection snapped.

The Grimm regained its senses and leapt at him. Thorn was out in an instant and it fired once. The Beowolf jerked back, already evaporating before it hit the ground.

Drifter walked past the body and went deeper into the forest, in search of another test subject. He would have to be more careful with the second. With the first he had used too much force, and snapped the fragile threads connecting the Mote to the Grimm.

It wasn't long before he encountered a small pack of snarling Beowolves. Without hesitation, Drifter shot down all but one of the creatures.

As the remaining Beowolf charged him, he once again held out a Mote and released its power.

The monster halted its approach, unsure. It tilted its head at the strange object.

"Don't be shy, o Grimm mine," Drifter said with a knowing laugh. "Take it."

The Mote evaporated into mist and its energy coalesced around the Grimm. The threads of Darkness wove themselves around the creature. Then an inky darkness coated the Beowolf. It stood stock still, and the coating peeled away to reveal its changed form. Its black body was now a gradient—glowing white at the bottom to black at the top. A single bright white orb replaced its former red eyes.

Drifter sat down with a heavy sigh. Beads of sweat dotted his brow, and he took a moment to catch his breath. He started at the thing in front of him, listening to its warbled growls and watching it twitch.

He gave an amused snort that evolved into full-blown laughter. Drifter clutched his stomach and laughed, watching the birds overhead fly away at the loud noise.

"Haha! It worked, woo!"

His Ghost gave him a look.

"No, I haven't lost it. Not yet, anyway." He pointed to the Taken Beowolf. "Look at this! You believe it? I don't."

Drifter pressed his palms into the ground and leaned back on them. "Grimm are nothing but instinct, I guess that's why I could Take it. No willpower to overcome."

Taking required dominating the will of the subject, bending their mind and corrupting their body with the Darkness. Taking the Beowolf was an exhausting experience, even though it was a weak-minded beast. Still, his success meant there was more power to exploit in the Motes.

Taken Grimm could be useful, however Drifter recognized he could not Take them on any meaningful scale. He would have to continue using his personal Taken stash for the future.

All the Taken Drifter had were not his own, but rather stragglers he collected after the god-king of the Hive, Oryx, had perished. Oryx had communed with the Darkness itself to gain the power to Take, and it had been most formidable. Even veteran warriors and fanatical cyborgs had their will dominated by the late Hive king.

Using Motes was a cheap imitation of that power. And, it lead to some difficulties, as sometimes the Taken could become unruly, and he would struggle to control them. While he had willpower, it lacked the proper magnitude.

Drifter's willpower could get him through a tough situation. Oryx's willpower could rewrite reality.

He walked up to the Taken Beowolf, giving it an experimental poke.

"What to do first," he muttered. "Think we should make him fight another Grimm? Or maybe shoot it a bit and see how tough it is?" he asked his Ghost.

Drifter rubbed his chin in thought as he studied the Taken.

His eyes lit up. "I know just what to do with you."

* * *

In his long life, Drifter had accumulated many regrets. This was one of them.

He retched, trying not to vomit. Leaning down, he scooped water from the stream and drank greedily. His Ghost hovered to the side, quiet as always.

"Tasted like rotting tar," Drifter explained to the Ghost before taking another drink. "Don't even think I can digest it."

His Ghost looked back at the Beowolf, which was still standing idly, but now with a large chunk missing from its arm.

"Nah, I'm gonna save the rest. Could be like Vex milk—you gotta cook it to make it better. Come on Ghost, let's get us a fire started."

In a dirt clearing by the river, Drifter kicked together some dead wood. Snapping some branches off a dead bush, he assembled a crude campfire. He held out a hand and emitted a puff of Solar Light, and the wood crackled with fire. The Taken Beowolf gave no sign of protest as he cut off the rest of its arm. Holding it over the fire, he grinned as he listened to the sizzle.

"Brings back good memories, huh?" he remarked, turning the arm with care. "The trick is getting it cooked through without burning the outside. Ooh, it's browning nicely—hope I got some salt leftover."

Drifter did not notice the crow high above, flying away as fast as its little wings could carry it.

The crow, Qrow, shivered. "What the f—"

BREAK

"Ah, back already, anything to report?" Ozpin asked.

Qrow pulled out his flask and took a long drink. "You sure know how to pick 'em," he said.

Ozpin raised an eyebrow. "Something bad?"

"No, no. He wasn't in contact with our enemy or anything. When you told me he was researching Grimm, what did that entail?"

"A broad scope, really. Mr. Hope has many novel ideas on how to fight the Grimm—"

"Yeah, it was novel all right," Qrow muttered.

"—if successful, we would have a major asset against Salem."

"He's eating the damn Grimm, Oz."

"I see…" Ozpin trailed off. He took a sip from his mug and scratched his ear. "Are you sure about that?"

"Had a fire going and everything. Saw him take a chunk out of a live Beowolf."

"Most interesting. I hope it doesn't kill him, I'm curious about the results."

Qrow gave him a disbelieving look.

"Desperate times," Ozpin offered. "I do not believe we need to continue our surveillance on Mr. Hope. Other than his frequent trips to the more questionable nightclubs Vale, there has been no cause for concern."

"Right," Qrow said. "What am I doing, then?"

"Remain here and help us with security. The trail of Amber's attackers has gone cold, meanwhile Vale suffers from a lack of Dust and an increasing White Fang presence."

"Hm. Could be a connection."

"Indeed, and in the chaos of a White Fang attack, Beacon would be most vulnerable."

"And they might find Amber," Qrow finished. "Understood. I'll try to find out what's happening in town."

* * *

The shadows lengthened with the sunset as Drifter walked across Beacon. There was more energy in his step than usual, and his face wore a look of genuine elation. Few things were as satisfying as a meal made from the flesh of enemies. While the Beowolf wasn't as good as Hive, once cooked, the Grimm had a tangy flavor and an exotic texture. Being Taken prevented it from evaporating and kept it docile, allowing Drifter to eat as much of it as he wanted.

Most people couldn't stomach such a meal, especially with the taint of the Darkness ingrained in the food, but it was nothing Drifter's ironclad stomach couldn't handle.

A flash of golden hair and a muttered greeting caught his attention. Looking up, he saw Yang on the same path as him.

"Hey hotshot, how'd you like Gambit the other day?" he asked.

"It was fun," Yang answered, her tone reserved.

"You did a good job with that invasion, practically won the game for your team."

"Yeah."

Drifter rolled a coin between his fingers. "Felt strange, didn't it? Have some strange thoughts during it?"

She looked over at him, wide-eyed. "You know?"

He nodded. "Yeah, I've seen it before. Whatever you were thinking, it wasn't your fault."

"I-I felt like I was in a haze, I just wanted to—" she broke off. "To hurt my friends," Yang finished in a quieter tone.

"But you didn't," he reminded her. "What you felt was a side effect of the extra power given to you during the invasion. Some people get a little hot-headed when it's active."

"I see, guess that's what happened," Yang muttered. "It reminded me of my Semblance, but, I dunno, darker or colder."

Drifter hummed. He looked away, thinking. How much should he tell her? Yang had potential, but he'd scare her off if he told her everything.

"So why'd you come to Beacon, anyway?" he asked.

She shrugged. "I've always liked adventure. I guess it just made sense. Came here to become a Huntress, then I'll just travel and see where life takes me."

"Is that why you were hanging around a place like The Club?" Drifter said with a laugh.

Yang was silent for a moment, turning to look at the distant city. "I wanted information, actually. My mother abandon—" she broke off. "I never knew my mother. She left after I was born."

"Sorry to hear that."

"Yeah, well, I've had plenty of time to come to terms with it. I still had a real family growing up, but I always wondered, ya know? Why'd she leave?"

Drifter nodded. "I can understand that. For what it's worth, I never knew my family either."

Yang looked over at him. "Really? I mean, I'm sorry."

He waved his hand dismissively. "Nah, don't be. Wasn't their choice. You remind me of myself, though. There's a reason I call myself 'Drifter.' I've spent most of my life on the frontier.

"Was it everything you hoped it'd be?"

"More or less," he answered with a shrug. "It's a crazy world out there, but you learn to take the good with the bad. You know, I could use some help with my projects, and I think you'd be a good fit. Interested?"

Yang scrunched her nose. "Like a part-time job?"

Drifter laughed. "Kinda. I work for Ozpin in the Emerald Forest. "Beacon's good and all, but some things you can only learn on the frontier. I could teach you, too.

"What kind of things?" She couldn't help her curious tone.

"Out there you learn real strength. More than what you get fighting Grimm in a classroom and sparring on that fancy stage. That power you felt in Gambit, it could be yours. Didn't it feel so real and alive?"

"Yeah, I guess it did," she agreed. "But I don't know, those feelings—"

"Can be controlled," Drifter stated. "I don't make this offer to everyone; not everyone can handle it. You've got heart and passion. You've got potential. Work with me and I'll make you strong."

Yang looked away, eyes filled with uncertainty.

"Don't have to answer just yet," he added. "Just think on it, sister, and talk to me if you're interested."

She nodded. "I will, thanks."

Drifter watched the girl go. Despite his reputation as a loner, he was not ignorant of the value of allies. If Yang agreed to work with him, she would be a valuable asset. Allies here would make his position concrete and make his work easier. Extra guns made a good safety net in case things went bad.

He realized he might have to work harder to find allies among those at Beacon. The promise of power had always been enough to convince people in the past, but it was useless here if they were ignorant to what true power there was.

Back on Earth he had found allies in many of the older Guardians—those who had seen the terror of the Darkness firsthand and realized their own Light was not enough to win the war. Then again, he thought, the younger Guardians had also been good to him. They were often willing to do dirty work in exchange for a new gun.

Perhaps he should just continue to hand out gear?

He dismissed the idea. What may have worked to get Junior and his men on his side would not work on Huntsmen and Huntresses, for they fancied themselves heroes.

Speaking of such, he soon found himself on the streets of Vale once again. The route to The Club was familiar by now, and he was sure he could navigate it with his eyes closed.

Drifter stuck to the sides as he entered, avoiding the mass of people mingling on the newly reopened dance floor. He made eye contact with Junior, and the man motioned to a side door and went inside. Drifter followed him into the stockroom.

"Wu, good to see you," Junior greeted as Drifter entered.

"Likewise," he replied. A gesture cued his Ghost to transmat several crates into the room. "Here they are, just as promised."

Junior walked over and lifted a lid, peering inside with a nod. "Excellent. Got the Lien as promised—sent half to your account, the rest is here." He reached into a pocket and pulled out a thick envelope, tossing it to Drifter.

Drifter caught it and opened the top, flipping through the cards within. "Thanks brother. Just don't use those all in one place, ya hear?" he added with a grin.

The other man rolled his eyes, jerking his thumb back towards the other room. "We'll try. Those idiots managed to lose half of the first shipment you sent already."

Drifter raised an eyebrow. "Really? How so?"

"Not sure," Junior replied with a shrug. "Someone's been poking around our warehouses. Stole those guns alongside some other stuff. We've increased our presence there since then, haven't had any trouble since."

"Another gang?"

"Maybe. I think it's the Fang, they're the only ones in Vale with the guts to try stealing from me. Got no proof, though."

"Well, if they want a fight, you can sure give it to them with these," Drifter replied.

Junior grunted in agreement and turned to shuffle through the crates. He went through each of them, checking the contents and picking up a few of the weapons. "I can outfit all my guys with these now. First batch did us real good—used them to scare off some rivals. Lot better than what we had been using, these things smash through Aura in seconds."

"Just don't attract too much attention with them," Drifter warned. "Beacon might not like the sound of that."

"Don't worry," Junior said with a dismissive wave. "I've stayed under their radar for years, don't plan on changing that anytime soon. Although," he remarked, looking sideways at Drifter, "I never had a chance to ask what you did to Torchwick. He sure left in a hurry after whatever you did. Should I be worried?"

"Nah brother, I was just convincing Torchwick to help me."

"'Convincing', right."

Drifter laughed. "Well, I had things I wanted to know. You'd probably be interested in this too—Torchwick's got a big bad boss forcing him to work with the Fang."

That got a reaction from Junior, who looked up with wide eyes. "Someone's using Roman? Who the hell could do that?"

"Not sure yet, he said they'd never met," Drifter said with a shrug. "Made him promise to give me a call when he found out, though."

"Hm," Junior grunted, stroking his beard. "If someone's making them work together to steal Dust, I bet they've got something planned for Vale."

"Me too," Drifter agreed. "Can't wait to find out what."

"You going to report it to the authorities?"

"Hah! If they haven't figured what I have already, I think they'd just slow me down."

Junior gave him a knowing smirk. "I understand that. The police are useless, and Beacon only cares about Grimm, not the Fang."

"Seems so, brother. Might be something in this for us, though—I'll keep in touch."

* * *

Roman Torchwick paced back and forth in one of his many apartments. He gripped his cane with whitened knuckles and clenched his jaw.

"Damn it all!" he shouted, swinging his cane down at the nearest object. The mirror fractured into a spiderweb and shards of glass flew across the wooden floor.

Roman slumped against the wall. "Too many freaks in Vale these days," he groaned.

Across from him sat his partner, Neopolitan, on a plush chair. She idly played with her parasol while giving the man an inquisitive glance.

"Got Cinder ready to turn me to ash if I screw up," Roman explained, "and that weirdo from The Club ready to shoot me if I don't squeal." He pointed to his blackened eye for emphasis.

Like the mirror, Neo fell to pieces and reappeared at his side.

"Won't work, can't vanish our way out of this one." He looked away. "Not this time."

She tilted her head.

Roman gestured around the room. "Cinder would find us anywhere in Vale. Hell, nowhere in Remnant is safe. Not from her, nor her lapdogs, nor those animals. Not unless we want to live in a cave in the mountains for the rest of our lives."

Neo shivered, and Roman gave a short laugh. "Yeah, didn't think so. Besides, Ozpin and the council can't stop her. Might as well make sure we're on the winning side when everything goes down."

She gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

"Yeah, you're right." Roman pulled out his scroll and looked down at it. "I'll give that guy enough to get him off my back, then we can focus on getting the last of the Dust. As long as Cinder doesn't find out, we'll be fine."

He pushed himself off the wall, brushing off his coat. Neo looked at him expectantly.

"Yes," Roman said, rolling his eyes with a sigh. "We can get ice cream first."

He swung his cane down and made for the door. With a triumphant smile, Neo followed.

* * *

**ANs:**

Once again, thanks to everyone for your support!

Questions & Comments:

1._ "Will he explain though how some aspects of being an Invader makes them a bit more aggressive than usual?"_

Perhaps, if he feels a need to.

2\. _Various questions about Gambit rewards._

Drifter will hand out some rewards, but carefully and only to those he trusts. After all, despite lacking mecha-shift functionality, much of his arsenal is still far superior to what's found in Remnant in power.

3\. _"You refer to the Primeval repeatedly as a "Chimera". Is this one of your own creations?..."_

Taken Chimera is a blanket term used in Destiny for the various Taken Servitors encountered (like the one Uldren kissed). I imagine this is because all the ones that have shown up in-game have been unique i.e. "Voice of Riven," "Taken Ascendant Servitor," "Xaras, Greed of Xivu Arath," etc.

4\. _"I like this story, so good job, but I want to know, does the young wolf (the player) side with drifter in this story?"_

The player choice doesn't have much of a direct effect on this story as Drifter has fled the Solar System to avoid the Darkness. It will, however, be alluded to later :)


	9. Chapter 9

Once again in Ozpin's office, Drifter held out a device and set it down on the desk. It was a short metal rod with a white, round structure on the end with various wires and antennae sticking out from it at different angles.

"Little creation of mine," he said. "Grimm-repellant. Little spotty at the moment, gotta do more testing."

Ozpin nodded as he picked up the device and examined it. "How does it work?"

"Uses Motes to invert negativity. The Grimm think there's nothing there."

He handed it back to Drifter. "Impressive. I look forward to seeing them in action."

"It'll be a good piece of tech once I'm done," Drifter said. "After the semester next month, I'm planning to head into the wilds for a bit. Would be good to test things in places outside the Emerald Forest."

"I understand that," Ozpin said with a nod. "You should be careful, though. Wild areas can be dangerous for even experienced Huntsmen. Where will you be going?"

"Mistral. Seems like a nice place, I'll do a little sight-seeing while I'm there."

After a few more polite exchanges, the meeting concluded. Drifter walked across the campus, flipping the device in his hand.

He was pleased with it. While mundane in application—why scare Grimm away when you could shoot them instead, after all—it was still a clever piece of tech. He'd been able to rig an old beacon up to match the signature of the Grimm. Powered by a Mote, he could reverse the signal and generate a virtual blind spot for the Grimm.

It wasn't complex to make, and with a bigger generator he could probably rig something up to cover half of Vale. He had, however, intentionally handicapped the design he'd shown Ozpin. Small steps were the key to avoiding undue attention. Plus, it gave him a reason to spend time in the wilds working on his personal projects.

Time it seems he would need. Perhaps he'd gotten lazy after all that time in the Tower on Earth, having young Guardians do his work for him, but between all his work with the Grimm and in Vale, it seemed he never relaxed.

Relaxation. That was a funny word. On Earth, with the Darkness constantly looming overhead, there was no such thing. Free time, sure, but it was always tense, as humanity held its breath, waiting for the next enemy. But on Remnant he was free of the Darkness, so perhaps, for the first time in centuries, he could allow himself to relax.

Drifter shook those thoughts away. There was still vital work to do. Remnant was not a safe place, not yet anyway, and carelessness now could cost him.

Still, he wouldn't mind an extra pair of hands for the heavy lifting.

* * *

Finding help turned out to be easier than Drifter thought.

"Woo! Are you having fun yet?" he called out.

"Gah!" Jaune shouted as the Boarbatusk threw him aside. "Not really," came the muffled reply from the boy face-down in the dirt.

The rampaging Grimm turned towards Drifter, only for Thorn to put it down with a single shot.

Drifter laughed. "Well, I can live without him. You caught over fifty already, so that'll do for today."

Jaune groaned as he stood up, brushing dust off his clothes and spitting out grass. "Great, so that's it?"

"Yep," Drifter said with a nod. "Got all we needed."

Jaune's shoulders slumped. "Oh, I see."

"Something wrong?" Drifter asked with a raised brow.

"No, nothing," Jaune replied. "Well, it's just that, you said you'd train me to get stronger too. But all I've done is wrestle Grimm into cages."

"Ah, I see," Drifter said with a knowing smile. "You want something a little more direct? Something that'll hone you into an unstoppable warrior?"

Jaune's eyes lit up as he nodded. "Yeah, like that!"

"All right, hotshot, get ready to fight," Drifter told him. In a hand behind his back, Drifter summoned a Mote.

"What should I—Ahh!" Jaune spun around as a portal roared into existence behind him. His trembling hands drew Crocea Mors as Taken Thrall shuffled out of the portal.

"Lesson one: Survive."

Drifter held back a laugh as he watched Jaune's frantic attacks as the Taken Thrall shuffled towards him. The boy swung his sword in wide blows at the Thrall, but none connected as each one would rapidly teleported to his flank.

The Taken Thrall were weak creatures, and wouldn't cause Jaune serious harm. They were, however, difficult to hit and fearsome to the inexperienced. Drifter decided they would be a good first challenge.

Drifter had come across Jaune on campus one night, as the boy was moping around the campus. After making some idle conversation, the boy had finally admitted he was struggling at Beacon, and feared he was letting his team down as their leader.

He thought back to the funny conversation he'd had with Jaune.

"Well, a little trouble's expected, especially when you fake your way in."

Jaune's eyes widened and gave a startled gasp. "You know? Oh no," he groaned into his hands. "Then Ozpin must know, and he'll expel me for sure!"

"Easy there, Ozpin doesn't know. And he doesn't have to, either."

"He doesn't?" Jaune had asked, hope hovering in his voice.

"It'll stay between us," Drifter reassured him with a pat on the back. "Every man's gotta have secrets. Honestly, I like what you did. You wanted something, and you did what you needed to get it."

"I did? Yeah, I guess I did. Uh, thanks?"

"Tell you what, want to get stronger? Help me out with some work on the side, and I'll give you some training," Drifter offered.

With promises of power and catching up to his peers, Jaune had agreed to Drifter's proposal in an instant. And so, Jaune had snuck away from his team during a free period and come to the Emerald Forest to help with the capture of Grimm for Gambit.

Drifter stroked his chin thoughtfully as he watched the boy stumble away from the flaming claws of a Thrall. He couldn't just throw Grimm at the boy forever and call it training. Teach him how to use that sword properly? A possibility. Drifter knew how to use a sword, but much preferred a gun. Besides, the swords he knew were twice as large as Jaune's, and built for cutting aliens in half.

He could always teach Jaune to use Motes, but not until later. The boy was not ready for such things yet, as using the Darkness required a strong mind and body working in perfect unison. The energy of the Darkness devoured those too weak to wield it.

The sound of a hiss split the air and Drifter looked up to see Jaune cleave through a Thrall, its body dissipating into mist. He nodded approvingly. Looked like the boy was learning.

Jaune's approach had finally adapted. Now, he closed the distance and waited for them to teleport, striking them as they reappeared. A good technique, and one which nullified the only real asset of the Taken Thrall. They were flimsy creatures, and a single hit was enough to dispatch them.

Drifter felt his Scroll—the one kept hidden inside his robe—buzz. He checked that Jaune was still occupied with the fight, and stepped away from the clearing to answer it.

The screen flashed, "Unknown Caller."

He grinned, knowing who it was. "How's it going?" he asked as he answered.

A snort came from the other side. "I dropped the file off with Hei."

"Good, lookin' forward to reading through it."

"I held up my end, so we're done now."

"Offer's still open, Roman. Once in a lifetime chance."

There was silence on the other end, then a click.

He shook his head and pocketed the Scroll. Torchwick was a survivor, someone who would take any side. Drifter liked that in a person. He'd been unable to convince the man on his offer, however. Torchwick believed his boss, whoever that was, was still more powerful than Drifter. People like Torchwick would soon realize there was another power in Vale, though for them it might be too late.

Drifter ducked under a branch as he stepped back into the clearing. Jaune was on the ground, panting and covered in dark ashes from the slain Taken.

"You took 'em all out, good work!" Drifter called out.

"Thanks," Jaune puffed. "Those things were hard to hit."

Drifter laughed. "You got the hang of it pretty quickly. We've been out here for a while though, gotta head back to Beacon now."

Jaune stood with a grunt and nodded. "When's the next time?"

"I'll let you know," Drifter replied as he began walking back.

Jaune hurried to catch up. "Will fighting those really make me stronger?"

"No." Drifter looked over and gave him a hard look. "Honestly? They should be nothing to you. You're not strong enough for the real deal yet."

"Oh, I—" Jaune looked away. "I see."

"Everyone starts somewhere, no shame in that. You've got potential. If you stick with me, I'll make you powerful."

"I will," came the immediate reply. "I need to get stronger."

"Hah, and you will," Drifter said with a grin. "I'll have something good for next time."

After returning to Beacon, the two parted ways. Drifter turned towards the air docks—there was a package in Vale that needed his attention.

* * *

Sitting alone in the back room of The Club, Drifter flipped through the files Torchwick had provided. It was less information than he was hoping for, but it was better than nothing.

Most of it was useless: locations of the White Fang that he already knew of, Dust shops that were already hit, and so on. If Roman had planned for the information to present an incomplete picture—which he likely had—he'd done a good job of it.

It at least contained the name of his boss, Cinder Fall. It was something new, at least, but not immediately useful to Drifter. With no pictures or additional information, it could be an alias for all he knew.

The door cracked open. "Everything good?" Junior asked.

Drifter tossed the Scroll over. "Do me a favor brother, have your men listen out for any mention of her, will ya?"

"Who's this?" Junior asked with a raised brow.

"The one that's got Roman and the Fang under her thumb."

Junior's eyes widened slightly. He looked down at the Scroll, stroking his beard in thought. "She's the one? Hm, would've been nice to have a picture. Still," he continued, "if she's in the city, we outta be able to find something. Assuming she's using this name, of course."

"That's what I was thinking too," Drifter said with a sigh. He leaned against the wall and flipped a coin. "Gotta assume Torchwick wasn't lying."

"He's been quieter than usual, it'd be hard to find him again. You sure shook him up."

"Just had to give him a little push," Drifter said with a shrug. "Rest of the information's good, so that's something."

"All right Wu, I'll let you know if I hear anything," Junior said, turning back towards the door. "Mind if I keep this info on the White Fang?"

"All yours. Something up?"

Junior frowned. "They've been getting more aggressive in our area. If they keep this up, we'll have no choice but to fight back."

"Sure thing, brother. Let me know if you need anymore guns," Drifter added with a grin.

* * *

The days turned into weeks, and life at Beacon progressed. The Dust robberies continued and the White Fang presence increased. With Junior's help, Drifter outlined the general locations, strongholds, and movements of the White Fang in the city. They were getting bolder, not only pushing away local gangs but also openly recruiting from the Faunus population.

They'd still been unable to get any leads on Cinder Fall. Aside from the growing White Fang presence and scattered Dust robberies, there was no sign of the greater operation.

Yang had not yet given him a reply. Perhaps she had decided against it, or perhaps she was busy with other things. He hadn't seen Team RWBY since their first Gambit game, as all the other first-year teams were to play before any team played a second time. It was only fair they all have an equal chance to learn, Glynda had told him.

A valid point, perhaps, but none of the other teams' games were as entertaining. Nevertheless, they collected plenty of Motes, and that's all he needed.

Jaune's training had progressed as well. He proved himself to be a quick learner and since lost his meekness against the Taken. He even fought a Taken Captain, holding his own for several minutes before Drifter had to intervene.

The students would be busy with their end of semester field trip soon. Drifter decided now was the time to give Jaune a taste of what the Darkness offered—a power boost from a Mote. Similar to that which an Invader received in Gambit, but more potent.

"Hey there hotshot, how's it going?"

"Fine," Jaune replied. The bags under his eyes and tired look said otherwise.

Drifter raised an eyebrow. "You sure?"

"Yeah, just some school stuff," Jaune said with a sigh. "But it's nothing, I'm ready to work," he added with a smile.

"Actually, I've got no work for you today. Got some special training," Drifter said.

Jaune perked up. "Really? What kind?"

Drifter walked over to a nearby rock and sat down, gesturing for Jaune to join him. As the boy sat, he looked Jaune in the eyes. "Dangerous kind. If you want to walk away, now's the time."

Jaune flinched. "Why would I do that? Do you think I can't handle it?"

"I don't doubt your ability," Drifter said, shaking his head. "Wouldn't even be offering if I did. It's rough stuff, though. Worst case? Could kill you."

"It could kill me?" Jaune repeated quietly.

"No shame in backing out," Drifter said. "But if you want power, this is how."

Jaune looked away, staring into the distance. Emotion flitted across his face. He balled his hands into fists and inhaled sharply.

"I'll do it."

"You sure?"

"I've gotten better, but it's not enough. I'm still too weak. Even my partner—" he sighed. "Even my partner thinks I need their help. What kind of leader needs their team to take care of them?!"

"Hah, you remind me of myself. Independent. Ambitious. All right brother, if you're ready for this, let's get started." Drifter sprang off the rock and dusted off his robes.

Jaune slowly stood up after him. "So, what now?"

Drifter's brow furrowed in concentration as he pulled a Mote into his hand. The ones used for empowering and summoning were much smaller and denser than their Gambit counterparts. Being compressed forms, they held much more energy as well.

"Take this. Let it merge with your Aura," he said, holding it out.

Jaune tentatively grabbed it. "A tiny Mote? What is this?" he asked.

"Salvation."

"Huh?" Jaune gave Drifter a quizzical look. He held the Mote up, looking it over. It seemed to hum—no, whisper, with power. It tingled in his hand, like the entire surface was electrified. It softly hummed with energy and whispered promises of power.

His fist closed around it, and the Mote yielded. Like crushing the wall of a dam, the energy within surged outwards and into his palm. Jaune gave a startled gasp as he felt the power expand in his hand, threating a violent eruption.

"Careful," Drifter warned. "Embrace it. Don't fight it."

The power clashed against his Aura, the two forces vying for control. And then Jaune relaxed, and the forces stilled. It was a slick, slimy feeling as the power washed across his Aura, leaving an indescribable taint. He felt strength well up within him. How could he have been so naïve? He was not a pretender in need of help—he was Jaune Arc! He would become the most powerful Huntsman in Remnant.

Drifter narrowed his eyes as he watched the Mote diffuse into Jaune. He worried the process might go awry, but that was not the case. The Mote merged well with the large Aura, creating a potent mix.

"All right, let's get started," Drifter announced. Another Mote formed in his hand and winked out of existence with a snap of his fingers. "Taken inbound!"

Jaune sprang backwards from the portal that formed in front of him. A massive Taken Captain emerged in black flames, roaring and brandishing its lethal shock blades.

Crocea Mors sprang out in an instant—with no hesitation, Jaune charged the monster. It fired a blast of dark energy at him, but he jumped to the side and let the attack roll past him. He raised his sword and lunged at the Taken. It swung its blades down on him, but Jaune spun and they slid harmlessly against his shield.

He delivered a ferocious blow powered by his momentum to the monster's head, knocking it to the side. The side of his shield followed as he struck with all his might. Another cut from his sword found its mark, and the Taken howled and stumbled backwards as its shield shattered.

The Taken Captain unleashed a storm of attacks with its blade. Jaune let them fall upon his shield, the few that got through doing little to harm his reinforced Aura.

The monster may have thought itself strong, but he realized its power was a flicker compared to that which he now held. Despite this, the blows kept coming, and he felt his heels dig into the soft dirt. The monster would never stop the futile assault, he realized—it was a single-minded creature, only knowing violence and brute force, and ignorant anything greater.

"Cardin," he growled.

Finally, he had his chance. Jaune gave a roar of his own as he plunged his sword into the monster, and the Taken screeched as its body shattered and melted away.

The dark aura that had surrounded Jaune faded away too, and he took a few shaky steps away. He looked from his sword to the fading remains, and back again, as if to confirm he really did it. He killed a Taken Capitan by himself, with no help from Drifter.

"Woo! You wake up pissed today or something? I like it!" Drifter shouted.

Jaune gave a half-smile through his exhaustion before he collapsed.

* * *

"Move, let me through!"

"Miss you can't—"

"I said move!"

Yang roughly shoved the man out of the way and stormed through. Behind her, Weiss jogged to catch up.

Vehicles with flashing lights surrounded the burning warehouse as emergency responders hurried about the scene. Ahead in the open lot, several people were moving a stretcher to the back of an Air Bus. Her heart raced at the sight of scorched, red fabric.

She ran up and her breath hitched. "Ruby…"

"Hey sis," Ruby whispered. Bloodstained bandages pressed against her body and small rips and burns covered her clothes. Despite that, the girl gave Yang a faint smile.

"She'll be fine," a nearby paramedic spoke up. "Shot pierced her Aura, but only grazed her. She was lucky," he explained.

Yang grabbed Ruby's hand. Hot tears trickled down her face, but she sighed. "I'm glad you're ok."

Ruby laughed weakly. "It'll take more than that to take down the leader of team RWBY."

"We need to get going," the paramedic cut in. "Day or two in the hospital and her Aura will do the rest."

"I'll come visit as soon as I can," Yang said. Ruby nodded and closed her eyes as they loaded her into the back. Yang stepped away as the engines roared to life, and the Air Bus took off into the city.

She heard shuffling behind her and turned.

"Blake! Are you hurt?"

Blake stood next to her, bandages covering her midsection and her signature bow missing.

"No, I'm fine." Blake's ears splayed. "I-I'm sorry Yang, this is my fault. I didn't know Ruby was there, and I didn't think and just rushed in and started this fight with Torchwick and the White Fang," she rambled.

Yang clenched her fist at the mention of Torchwick. "No, it's their fault. Not yours."

"It is!" Blake insisted, wiping her eyes. "If I hadn't run away, tried to hide, she never would've been in Vale—"

Yang grabbed her partner's shoulders. "Blake! It's not your fault, ok?" She smiled through gritted teeth.

"Right…" Blake gave a small nod. She saw Weiss approaching and shied away.

"Blake," Weiss said sharply.

"Weiss, I—"

"Nope! I don't care."

"You don't care?"

"Whatever you had to do with the White Fang, you're not a part of them anymore, right?"

Blake nodded.

"Then I don't care. Next time there's something this big this, though, come to us first. Ok?"

"Of course," Blake said, wiping her eyes.

The three girls fell into silence as they looked around at the scene.

"I-I need to go," Yang spoke up as she broke away from them. "Gotta check on Ruby."

"Wait!" Weiss called. "First, we should inform Professor Oz—" she stopped at the flicker of red in Yang's eyes. "But Blake and I can handle that ourselves."

"Yeah," Blake said. "Let us know how Ruby is."

Yang gave a terse nod and turned, jogging in the hospital's direction. Even on foot, the trip wouldn't take long. She took a few breaths, trying to calm herself as she ran.

The life of a Huntress was dangerous, and she knew that well. Still, she hadn't expected to see Ruby hurt. Not so soon. Never had she seen her younger sister, always so full of life, look so weak.

Yang recalled the paramedic's words. "She was lucky." The other, unspoken half echoed in her mind: "It could have been so much worse."

Her breathing quickened as she increased her pace. A traitorous voice in her head asked, why was she even running? What help could she possibly be there? She didn't even help Ruby in the fight.

_"I've always got your back, sis."_

* * *

**ANs:**

Questions & Comments:

1\. _"What if the Drifter wins Jaune over by showing him the power he can have..."_

You guessed it!

2\. _"I wonder who is stealing weapons from Drifter. That can't be good. __I wonder is Drifter is going to try and retrieve them?" _

Indeed it is not good. He could try to retrieve them, but really they've already been sold to Junior, so they're his property now.

3\. _"__Where does Drifter sit on terms of power compared to everyone else? Could he beat Roman but fall against Cinder or could he easily decimate both?"_

Drifter is a formidable force with his Taken, weapons, and Light powers. It would certainly be difficult to fight against him without enough firepower & a numbers advantage.

4\. _"__If only the chapters themselves are longer, you've been keeping me on the edge of my seat for the past weeks. __Since RWBY successfully defeated a Taken Chimera, does that mean they're eligible to start to work on getting Malfeasance? ;)"_

Haha, I've been working on lengthening the chapters! Because of time constraints, though, I have to keep the update schedule at a chapter ever 1-2 weeks. And no, they won't be getting anything like Malfeasance. (Yet?)


	10. Chapter 10

In his room, Drifter's Ghost projected holograms displaying dozens of files pulled from Beacon's secure database. Drifter sat before them, staring at them with narrowed eyes.

"What are you hiding, Ozpin?" he muttered.

With a finger, he traced a line across one document, the schematics of Ozpin's tower. It was an impressive structure that stuck out among the other buildings, and constructed from expensive, sturdy materials. Compared to every structure at Beacon, it was extremely overbuilt, as if to withstand a direct assault.

According to the schematics, there was only a small storage area underneath the tower. Despite this, his Ghost scanned a much larger cavity beneath it. By itself, not a noteworthy fact. However, the tower also drew a disproportionate amount of power, more than any other building on campus. Given that there was nothing significant on the upper floors, Drifter was sure Ozpin was hiding something in the hidden basement. It was either the world's largest coffee maker, or something important enough to warrant such secrecy.

The archives of Beacon had more interesting points of information to offer as well. He'd read the fairy tales of Remnant, which were merely stories told to children—or so they seemed. To the people here, magic was a myth. Drifter knew better.

The Maidens had especially caught his interest. At first Drifter dismissed the tale as dealing with a rare, powerful Semblance. But the more he dug into Beacon's database, the more he suspected there was truth behind it.

For a mere tale, Ozpin had many files on the topic. Dozens of files detailing the nature, the Maidens' power, how it transferred between hosts, and how it linked the bearer's soul.

It was then Drifter found the reports on sightings and potential locations of the Maidens.

Mistral. The name showed up countless times in the reports. Marks spanned the entire area, covering remote villages, patches of forest, and trade roads. Whatever Ozpin was looking for, it had to be in Mistral.

After learning that, Drifter had immediately made plans to travel to Mistral once the semester was over. Still, it was a large place, and he didn't know what to look for.

He'd need more information.

Several sharp knocks sounded from the door and shook him from his thoughts. He pulled his feet off the desk and pushed his Ghost aside as it faded away.

"Come in!"

The door cracked open, and Yang shuffled into the room. Her movements were stiff, lacking their usual easy nature. Her hair had odd strands sticking out of it, and her fists seemed locked shut.

"Hey sister, how's it hanging?"

"Fine."

Drifter raised an eyebrow. "Something happen?"

"You said if I work for you, you'll help me get stronger, right?"

"Sure did. You interested?"

"Yeah. I'll do it."

Drifter leaned back in his chair and looked Yang over critically. "First, tell me why. Then you're in."

"Why does it matter?" she retorted. "I said I'd help."

"Come on sister, I'm not blind. If you're gonna be working for me, I need to know what's going on."

Yang looked away and tensed. Then she sighed, and her arms fell loosely at her sides.

"Take a seat," Drifter prompted.

Yang sat down in a chair across the desk. She looked around the room, as if searching for a starting point. One hand idly ran through her hair.

"Ruby got hurt," she said.

Drifter nodded. "Heard about that, fighting the Fang at the docks? Nasty business."

"I should have been there to help her."

"Hey, that's not your fault."

"It is!" Yang insisted, starting from the chair. She sighed and slumped back into it. "We were in Vale searching for Blake—she'd run away after, well, after an argument, and went to fight the White Fang by herself. Ruby found her first and tried to help…" she trailed off.

"So you want get stronger, so it doesn't happen again?"

"Yes! I was too slow to help Ruby, and Blake… Blake didn't trust me, I guess. Didn't think I could help against the White Fang."

"Partner problems, huh? Hah, sounds like Jaune," Drifter muttered.

"Jaune?"

"He's working for me too. Seems he and you have a common goal."

Yang cracked a smirk for the first time all day. "Yeah, Vomit-Boy could use the help." She frowned in thought. "Although, he has gotten a lot stronger recently. Was that because of you?"

"Sure was."

"I heard he got detention for beating up Team CRDL the other day."

Drifter grinned. "What can I say? He's got spirit." He leaned forward and set his elbows on the desk. "Jaune's improved a lot. You can too, Miss Xiao Long. Remember what I said to you?"

Yang nodded. "You said I have potential."

"More than you think. Meet me here this time tomorrow, and I'll get you started."

Yang pulled out her Scroll and glanced at it, pursing her lips thoughtfully. "All right, I'll be here."

She walked out, and as the door closed shut behind her, Drifter let out a relieved sigh.

He'd received the news from Ozpin—students in a fight at the Vale docks, against the White Fang and Torchwick. Ruby Rose was the only one injured, after a bullet got through her Aura. The general belief was that Torchwick had weakened her, allowing the shot through. Drifter, however, had immediately recognized what kind of weapon had caused that wound.

Oops.

His Ghost reappeared in the air and tilted slightly, as if giving him an admonishing look. Drifter raised his hands placatingly.

"Not my fault. Junior's the one who lost 'em."

His Ghost stared.

"Fifty-fifty."

If its red eye could blink, it surely would have.

"Don't give me that, I got a plan, anyway," Drifter said. "If the Fang's running around with my tech, they're liable to make trouble. Too much of that, and it'll be tough to get any work done."

Drifter stood up from the chair and stretched. "I got the intel on their safe houses, so we can deal with them anytime. Wish I could say the same for our Ozpin mystery."

His Ghost vanished into hiding as he exited his room and stepped outside. The evening air was brisk, the first sign of the changing seasons.

He smiled at the sensation. Most Guardians never noticed such things, their Ghosts always keeping them isolated. For Drifter, however, the little reminders of being alive drove him forward.

Drifter walked swiftly across the campus. There were a few students still out, crossing between the buildings. In the weeks since the first Gambit game, Drifter, and his rough outfit, had become a known sight on campus and no longer received the same odd looks as he had before.

A few who had played in Gambit even gave him a wave or a nod.

He returned them with an easy smile, though never stopped to make conversation. Drifter had to maintain at least some level of enigma.

Not that he disliked the students, not at all—he found them to be refreshing company. Strong, yet grounded in their humanity. However, they were too naïve, and he really didn't need them trying to get involved in his business.

Once he was on the far edges of campus, where no prying ears could listen, he pulled out a Scroll and tapped a familiar number.

"Wu, what can I do for you?" Junior asked as he picked up.

"You got any intel on what goes on in Mistral?"

"Nope, sorry," Junior said loudly, speaking over the background noise. "I only know what goes on in Vale. Mistral's way too far out."

"I figured," Drifter replied. "Know anyone who might?"

"Can't say I do. Only contact there would be through the CCTS. Someone who hangs around there might have a lead on whatever you need."

Of course, the Cross Continental Transmit System was the only means of communication between the continents of Remnant! Drifter's shook his head and laughed at himself—it was so obvious that was the solution!

"Thanks brother, that's a good idea. One other question—the White Fang giving you any more trouble?"

"N—one second." There was a ruffling sound followed by a click on the other end, and the background noise disappeared. "Not recently. My guys finally woke up and they've been able to keep them away."

"Good. Those guns the Fang stole popped up the other night."

"Yeah, I heard, the docks right? Heard it was a big show between them and some Beacon brats."

Drifter leaned against a tree and glanced around, making sure there was still no one around.

"Sure did. One of them got hurt, too."

There was silence on the other end for a moment. "That a problem for you?" Junior asked. There was hesitance in his voice, likely wondering if Drifter was upset with him.

"Not yet. They think it was a lucky shot. If it happens again, though, Ozpin might investigate."

"I understand. I can make sure my guys keep it together, but the guns the Fang already has—"

"Don't worry about it, brother, I'll take care of that. Just try to keep it from happening again."

Junior voiced his understanding. And with that, the call ended.

Drifter pocketed his Scroll and walked to the airship docks. The ride into Vale was quiet, and so was the trip through Vale. There were a few people out on the streets, carefree citizens whose numbers dwindled as Drifter entered the far side of town, replaced by grimy alleys and distrustful Faunus eyes.

The number of shadowed hoods increased, a sign that he was close. Drifter stayed to the sides of the street, in the shadows, letting his Light bend them around him and cloak his form.

He was no Nightstalker—Guardians skilled in using their Light for total invisibility—but he could do enough. He stood before a large, weathered warehouse. Armed members of the White Fang stood guard outside it, scanning the streets for any sign of trouble. But, even with their natural night-vision, their eyes passed right over Drifter.

Careful not to make a sound, he stepped right past them. The light flickered as he went, but the guards did not notice.

The inside of the warehouse was large, dim lights overhead illuminating the many crates stored inside it. Rows and rows of them stacked high, creating a maze-like interior. Drifter caught sight of their contents through a few open lids—Dust and weapons.

He felt a buzz from his Ghost confirming this was the place. The Veist-made guns that the White Fang stole were easy to track, thanks to their onboard computer. It could only tell their general location, however, and with a warehouse this large, it could take all night to find them.

Luckily, Drifter wasn't there to reclaim the guns.

He walked to what he assumed to be the center of the warehouse and eyed the stack of crates before him. Satisfied that it would be enough, he jumped on one crate on the floor, and used it to climb up onto the higher ones. At the top he turned and sat, dangling his legs off the edge.

Drifter took in the view—if it could be called that. He could see the White Fang members milling about in the cluttered, dim warehouse. Some worked while others stood guard, but many seemed to just be standing around and talking. In fact, they seemed relaxed and in good spirits.

They weren't all hardened terrorists, Drifter realized. Especially here, where many of their members were likely new recruits from the local population. Faunus from the squalor, feeling helpless and oppressed, and given a new chance at life with the White Fang.

A burst of laughter broke through the quiet. Drifter saw a group of Faunus off to the side, laughing and joking with each other.

It was odd, he thought, that he'd never really fought an enemy like this. The enemies of earth were unquestionably evil; wholly dedicated to the eradication of humanity. Against them, reason was never an option. The humans he had fought in his time were also of the worst sort, either being unrepentant marauders or those who let the Darkness corrupt them.

It wasn't the same here. These men and women were ordinary citizens in their daily lives. In fact, other than their affiliation, many would still be innocent of any wrongdoing. They could be reasoned with.

Perhaps another time. With his guns, the White Fang was a problem to his plans. The best thing to do now was to deal with it quickly and thoroughly.

He cast a handful of Motes into the air and Taken portals erupted all around the warehouse. The White Fang members stood still in shock for a moment before chaos erupted. Frantic yells punctuated by gunfire filled the warehouse as Taken Thrall poured from the portal and fell upon their targets with earsplitting screeches.

It couldn't be helped—these Faunus chose their path.

A loud clatter caught his attention and Drifter looked over to see a tall stack of crates fall to the ground, spilling dozens of volatile Dust crystals across the floor. Volatile crystals sitting underneath wild gunfire and the flaming claws of the Thrall.

A few errant shots struck them, causing small explosions to break out. The nearby White Fang flinched away, and the Thrall took the opportunity, charging through the smoke and leaping on them. One fired wildly as he fell, the bullets erratically flying to the side. A few caught his fellows, and the rest hit the crates by Drifter, causing them to splinter.

Drifter looked down and saw that he was sitting on crates with the same Dust marking.

"Huh," Drifter spoke aloud. "Hold on, Ghost."

* * *

Drifter peered into the mirror, using a wet cloth to rub out the last patches of soot from himself. Despite the explosive exit from the warehouse, he'd come out unscathed, thanks to his innate Light shielding taking the brunt of the blast. The explosion was a boon as well, as it had destroyed the stolen weaponry, the White Fang warehouse, and any evidence of his Taken.

By now investigators were surely crawling over the scene from last night, but they'd only find evidence of a Dust explosion likely caused by the incompetence of the White Fang.

Afterwards, a sooty, scorched Drifter had dragged himself back to Beacon. He'd made sure no one saw him on the way, to avoid being linked with the explosion.

Well, no one except the fast food vendor. Sometimes, the reward was worth the risk.

Drifter nodded to himself in the mirror, satisfied he'd cleaned and patched up his clothes enough to look almost as good as before.

A Ghost could mend armor and clothing in an instant, but it knew better than to offer. To Drifter, even the little inconveniences were reminders that he was alive.

Not that he rejected all help from his Ghost—there were certainly some tasks the little thing was more adept for than he would ever be. One of which he was about to use to great effect.

Heading out the door, Drifter checked the map pulled up on his Scroll. The set destination was the CCTS tower in Vale, a large and impressive building, and the single facility that allowed communication with the other continents.

The technology on Remnant was primitive by Earth standards, and his Ghost had no problems getting whatever he needed. So far, Beacon's database alone had been a great asset. With access to the CCTS, there would be little that he couldn't find out.

Perhaps he could even find Cinder Fall.

She was a secondary objective, however. Terrorists running around Vale were irrelevant to him if there was truly a source of magic in Mistral, as Ozpin's documents suggested. He would need to find it, and then either capture or destroy it.

Magic was a dangerous force that could kill Light-bearers permanent if applied properly. The Darkness-fueled rituals of the Hive proved that all too well.

Once he dealt with this, would there be anything else on Remnant that could kill him? So far, his investigations said "no." Life without fear of death—it was a tempting idea to Drifter, who'd spent centuries clinging to survival.

The thought lingered in his mind as left the building, and it still occupied him as he approached the CCTS.

Drifter cleared his mind to focus on the task at hand. Now was not the time to linger on what could be, not with so much work to be do. He didn't come this far just to slip up now.

Even at this early weekend hour, many Beacon students milled about the broad steps in front of the CCTS building. Drifter passed a group of students exiting the building, as the group talked about the family and friends they had spoken to.

He passed through the lobby and into an elevator at the back. The doors closed, and a voice spoke from the speaker inside.

"Hello! Welcome to the CCT, how may I help you?"

Drifter looked at the wall-mounted screen. "Need to get to the communications room."

"Absolutely. Could you please place your Scroll on the terminal to verify your identity?"

"Uh huh," Drifter said while holding his hand low and summoning his Ghost. His Beacon issued Scroll would give him access, but he didn't want his presence there on record. "Get us in," he whispered to it.

His Ghost floated over to the panel and began scanning it, digitally entering the system and granting them access.

"I'm sorry, unrecognized command," the computer said. "Please try—," it cut off and flashed. "Override registered," it announced as the elevator lurched upward.

"Good work," Drifter told his Ghost. It gave a semblance of a nod.

With a ding, the elevator doors opened and Drifter walked into the communications center of the building. It was a large room, with many video terminals throughout it. It was more crowded than he would have liked, but he could work around it.

A holographic woman flashed into existence behind the front desk. "Welcome to the Beacon Cross Continental Transmit Center. How may I help you?" she asked.

Drifter hoped she was just a virtual assistant. He leaned forward on the desk, providing concealment for his Ghost to move forward and begin its work.

"Looking to make a call to Mistral," he said.

"Absolutely. If you could provide a routing number, I'll patch you through."

Having no answer to that, Drifter rattled off a few random numbers. There was no answer, as his Ghost completed its task.

"Override registered, Terminal 9 reserved."

Drifter grinned as he walked over. Getting in was even easier than he anticipated. He took a seat at the terminal, sitting on the end by the wall, and pulled up the chair to be closer to the screen. Positioned where he was, there was little chance of someone coming up behind him.

He noticed the room was full of security cameras, however they wouldn't be much of a problem. His Ghost could wipe the footage on their way out. It'd draw suspicion, but they'd have no way of knowing who did it. Besides, given the technological advancement of Atlas, they look for someone with inside knowledge of the system. A normal guy like him would be a poor suspect.

That was Drifter, just a normal guy doing normal human things.

He waited patiently as his Ghost hacked into the system. As advanced as Ghosts were, processing the vast amount of data in the CCT system would take some time.

Drifter looked at his PDA as his Ghost sent the files it found that were immediately relevant. The device was something he'd brought with him from Earth, and useful for situations like this, where a Scroll just wouldn't be enough.

Already his Ghost had found several logs for highly secured communications. Beacon's database was sorely lacking in many areas, and Drifter knew Ozpin was likely using other channels for such communications. Searching through all high-security communications from Vale was his best chance of finding out what those were.

The files were encrypted, so his Ghost would have to process them for them to be of any use. That could wait until later, though. Drifter leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes, deciding to relax. It'd be a while longer until they had what they needed, and their area of the room was still comfortably deserted.

He'd only been there for a few minutes before the clack of an access door opening caught his attention. Across the room, several men were filing into the room. They were speaking quietly, and Drifter strained his ears to catch what they were saying.

"…unauthorized access came from this room, unknown terminal. Look for whatever caused it."

Drifter stood up and stretched. "Time's up," he whispered to his Ghost.

It looked up at him.

"Whatever you got, it'll have to do."

His Ghost seemed to nod in understanding. It turned and sent a final scan at the terminal, wiping any evidence of their activity before returning itself to hiding.

Drifter slowly but deliberately walked towards the exit. Like the night before, he pulled on the power of his Light to mask his presence. He tensed with every step, ready to run if needed. He wasn't the best at this trick, and it was far less effective in this brightly lit room than the cluttered, dark White Fang warehouse.

The security guards had spread out around the room, and were checking the identification and status of the communications terminals, much to the annoyance of the students there.

"Hey, I'm in the middle of a call!"

"I'm sorry ma'am, but I need to check—"

Drifter was close to the door now. Just a few more steps.

"Routine procedure, everyone, please just let us do our job."

"Can't believe this. Now I'm going to be late."

One of the security guards was standing next to the door. Drifter would have to go right past him to make it through, but he doubted his concealment would work if he were that close.

A quick glance around showed no other options. He stepped up to the door slowly. The guard didn't move. He inhaled, and took two sharp steps past, into the hallway.

Drifter gave a small sigh of relief.

"Huh? Wait, sir, you can't leave yet!"

So much for sneaking out. He'd been so close, too.

He broke into a sprint down the hallway, hearing shouts of alarm from behind. He turned, running towards the elevators before stopping. His Ghost could probably hack the elevator again, but he didn't want to risk getting stuck if security could disable them. Drifter looked around for another option, ignoring the increasing sound of his pursuer's footsteps.

There! He ran towards a nearby door, smashing through it and into a stairwell. The stairs would be a better option than the elevator.

Stairs, he realized, that only went up. There was a reason he never claimed he was a lucky man.

Drifter ran up the spiraling stairs, wearing a grin the entire time. Admittedly, he missed this kind of action that once was a daily occurrence for him. That his pursuers weren't bloodthirsty Thrall was a plus.

The top of the stairs lead onto the circular walkway that ran the circumference of the CCTS building. He could see the whole of Vale from the dizzying height.

"Not ideal," he muttered. There was no clear way down from the top, and he could hear stomps from the guards echoing in the stairwell.

He peered over the balcony, judging the distance to the ground below. A fall from this height would probably kill him—it was the number one cause of death of Guardians, after all. Risen he may be, Drifter wasn't eager to throw away his life just because he could resurrect. That was the fool's choice in his mind. A normal human wouldn't consider it, so neither would he.

Facing the guards would be a difficult situation. He couldn't risk being found out, not yet. The guards themselves posed little threat, but if Drifter attacked them, it'd complicate things.

If only he had a transmat ready.

No time left now. The guards burst out onto the walkway behind him. He'd have to escape the hard way and hope he could go unrecognized.

"Ghost, gonna need a disguise—fast," he said in a low tone as he turned to face them.

There was a quiet whoosh and a rustle of paper. Drifter's vision blurred as something covered his face. He squinted—what was he wearing?

He sighed as he recognized the white-and-red interior of a papercraft festival mask.

"Of all the things, you got the chicken mask?"

* * *

**ANs:**

Hi all! Sorry for the long delay since the last chapter, it's been a busy few weeks. As always, thank you for your support and please comment if you have any questions or feedback.

Q&A:

_"I know this is late to ask but what made you pick the VEIST weapon line over something like Häkke or SUROS? I won't bother asking about OMOLON considering the design philosophy states..."_

I like their futuristic and uniquely dangerous-looking design. In Remnant, they stand out more as "something new."

_"Will drifter be a good guy if so things would be a lot more awesome, I thought of a giant taken ogre against that big major behemoth elephant and later act like a puppy after defeating it like ruby rubbing his taken tummy."_

Drifter's always on his own side, so only time will tell where that ends up. And, maybe petting a Taken Ogre is the secret to quickly getting past Morgeth?


End file.
